Best Days of Your Life
by loveadubdub
Summary: They have a music comp major, an aspiring actress, and a teenage pianist living under one roof.  Sometimes it gets a little loud...  Threequel to One Sentence and All the World's a Stage
1. Chapter 1

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 1**

…

Rachel could write a book on the New York cliches of waiting.

She's waiting tables and waiting on a break that seems a little further away every single day. She knows she's being dramatic. She's only twenty-three and less than a year out of college, but it feels like forever. It feels like she's been _waiting _forever, and she's sick of it.

The closest she's made it to Broadway is Ellen's Stardust Diner, and she's been here for ten months just waiting on something to happen. The staff is made up of a never-ending circle of struggling performers, some of whom go in and out so quickly she can't even learn their names. Others have been here for years. There's a joke among the staff that the only way out is through a break or with a plane ticket out of the city.

Plane tickets are much easier to come by.

It's hard to be so close and still feel like all the Broadway theatres are millions of miles away instead of all being located within a few blocks radius. She tries not to let it discourage her. She's well aware that she's got to work her way to to the top. She's always known that. It just doesn't exactly make any of this waiting any easier. Still, she keeps a smile on her face and her hair in a ponytail, and she chats with tourists who come in and sit in her section clutching Playbills of shows they've just seen and shows she'd die to be a part of. When it's her turn on rotation, she grabs the mic and delivers flawless performances of "Part of Your World" and "Lipstick on Your Collar," and sometimes she gets tangled into a duet of "As Long As You're Mine" with an AMDA graduate named Nick who she hates on most days. Still, she doesn't like _The Little Mermaid, Wicked, _or Connie Francis enough to validate these daily occurrences.

The only applause she hears regularly comes from the happy-go-lucky tourists who love the poppy, upbeat 50s style of the diner. They tell her, "You were great!" and leave five-dollar bills on the table. Their compliments stopped meaning anything months ago, and until a producer or casting director sits in her section and offers her an audition, the five-dollar tips mean nothing.

She gets off work after the Sunday lunch shift and tries really hard not to yell at anyone as she changes out of her uniform in the back and puts on her street clothes. She's tired and frustrated, and all she wants to do is go home, fall into bed, and maybe sleep for six months. Or at least until tomorrow when she has to work the morning shift. One of the other girls is changing as well, and they trade horror stories of the odd rude customer they've encountered that day. Leslie is nice enough- Rachel likes her. She's twenty-two and has been trying to make it since she moved to New York at seventeen. So far, she's been unsuccessful, but she tries to remain optimistic. Rachel wonders where she herself would be if she hadn't spent the last four years in school. Possibly worse off or possibly better. She might already be working, having lucked out and made a name for herself early. Or she might be in even worse shape. At least through school she's got a solid list of contacts- hell, she doubts she'd even have _this _job if it weren't for her vocal theory professor putting in a good word for her.

She's talented, but this whole damn city is talented.

It's raining, of course, and she and Leslie make a joint run for the subway. Both of them are eager to get home, and they barely split goodbyes as they head off toward their respective trains once they make it to the station. Rachel has the ugliest urge to _kick _a little boy who is screaming at his mother about something. She can't even make out what his issue is, but she doesn't care. She hates the way he's behaving, and she hates even more that his mother is just ignoring him and allowing him to get away with it. Maybe it's his mom who needs the kick instead.

She rolls her eyes when they get onto the same car as her, and she does her best to sit as far away from them as possible. There aren't many seats, but a guy who looks around her age gets up and offers his place. She smiles at him, and he smiles back as he reaches up to grab the pole above his head. She knows he's flirting with her, and it's cute. _He's _cute.

He must not see the ring on her finger.

"Think she could shut her kid up?" He leans down a little bit as the train lurches forward, and she laughs and shakes her head.

"He's been screaming for awhile."

"Is it still raining outside?"

She knows he's just looking for an excuse to talk to her because the fact that it's raining is made pretty obvious by her wet hair and the fact that her clothes are clinging to her uncomfortably. Still, she smiles politely and nods. "Yeah, I think it's getting worse."

They talk about some other mindless things until they reach his stop. He kind of waves at her and tells her to have a good day. She smiles again and returns the sentiment. And then he's gone, and it's back to normal. She's happily engaged, but that doesn't mean she can't appreciate the fact that other people still apparently find her attractive. Everyone likes that. She's no exception.

She gets off at her own stop and walks the two blocks to her building. It's still raining, and she can't believe she left without an umbrella this morning. She lives in a third floor walk-up in Greenwich Village, which she normally loves, but today the short distance between it and the subway stop seems to be never-ending.

Her mood is even _worse _by the time she turns her key in the lock.

There's a cat at the bottom of the stairs. She doesn't know who it belongs to, but it hisses at her like she's some sort of evil enemy or something. She briefly considers holding the door open just long enough for it to run out, and then she wonders what's wrong with her today. She's having thoughts of kicking children and also of letting random pets out into the street. She feels mostly bad, but part of her thinks that both hateful kids and irresponsible pet owners just might deserve it.

Her apartment is a _mess, _and that just sort of puts her over the top. It was messy when she left this morning, but it's even worse now. She doesn't even bother putting her purse down. She just grabs everything up off the floor (including what appears to be half a plateful of leftover Chinese) and takes it straight to the second bedroom. She knocks once with her elbow and then pushes the door open just far enough to dump everything in her arms right inside the door.

"What the hell?" The sudden invasion of trash and junk at least gets a reaction, and Rachel's kind of surprised Bekah can even lift her head high enough to see what's going on because she seems to be pretty much permanently attached to her bed most of the time.

"It's your shit, Bekah," she snaps back. "Clean it up."

She hears something being said to the back of her head as she closes the door behind her and goes back to the living room, but she doesn't listen to it. If she _did, _she'd probably end up even madder, and then she might really start saying or doing things she shouldn't. She's in a bad mood already, and she's just really looking for anything else to set her off. Especially not bratty fifteen year olds who can't even pick up after themselves.

She knows it's just one of those days. She just needs a break and a chance to relax, and then she'll be better. But this apartment is really small, and sometimes it just doesn't feel like there's enough room to even _breathe. _This is one of those times, and she kind of wants to cry for no apparent reason when she goes into the kitchen and sees a sink full of dishes.

"How hard is it to fucking _clean _something?" she asks out loud, full of frustration that seems to be pounding deeper inside of her by the second. She slams on the water and starts filling the sink, grumbling to herself the entire time. She's just pissed off at the whole world right now.

When she's halfway through scrubbing the dishes, Bekah comes into the kitchen and slams into her on her way to the trashcan. It's probably intentional, but it would likely happen anyway considering the fact that the kitchen is roughly the size of a _shoe box. _Still, Rachel glares at her, and she gets the look right back in return as Bekah dumps a handful of things into the trash.

"Now my whole room smells like beef and broccoli," she snaps hatefully, and Rachel just rolls her eyes.

"Maybe if you'd throw your trash away like a normal person, that wouldn't happen."

"Maybe if you weren't so freaking _anal, _I would have gotten to it myself!"

Rachel just kind of laughs humorlessly and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, next week maybe." When Bekah opens her mouth to protest, she cuts her off. "I'm sick of cleaning up after you. If you can't get your shit out of the living room, I'm going to throw it in your bedroom every single day."

"Oh, my god, when are you off the rag?" Bekah rolls her eyes and stomps back out of the room before Rachel can even say anything to her. She hears a bedroom door slam, and balls both of her hands into fists so that she doesn't pick up a plate and throw it or something equally as drastic. She's just _sick _of this right now.

She drops the dishes and goes to take the nap she originally planned when she got off work. She's sick of cleaning up after other people, and she's tired and cranky on top of everything else. It occurs to her as she kicks off her shoes and peels off her clothes that the never-ending string of cuss words flying through her head at the moment just prove that she's thoroughly corrupted. New York has finally gotten to her.

Either that, or the Puckermans have.

When she wakes up later, her stomach is grumbling, and the room is halfway dark. She glances at her phone and sees that it's almost seven. She feels slightly less bitchy than she did before her nap, and she pulls her hair up as she goes to find something for dinner. She stops at Bekah's door to see what she wants, but the room's empty. The whole apartment seems empty, and she's more than a little annoyed that Bekah's apparently taken it upon herself to take off without telling anyone. Unless she told Noah, of course, but seeing as how he hasn't been home since that morning, the chances of that are unlikely.

Rachel grabs a box of rice and starts chopping up a couple of vegetables. She sends Bekah a text while she's waiting for the water to boil and really doesn't expect to hear back. Bekah tends to come and go as she pleases, something Rachel is not at all supportive of. Noah seems to care less, though, even though Rachel constantly tells him that the city is too dangerous for teenagers to be running off by themselves. He just tells her that Bekah's not stupid and that she knows the neighborhood and knows to be careful and a bunch of other crap that may be true but will mean absolutely nothing if something terrible happens. She finds it ironic that he was insanely overbearing and overprotective of his sister when they were still in Lima. Yes, she was a pain in the ass and whiney back then, but at least they knew where she was. Since they've been in New York, though, his attentiveness has gone from off the charts to barely registering.

Rachel's just waiting for the eventual blowout.

As it is, though, _Rachel _has turned into bad cop. She's the only one who tries to enforce any kind of rules, and she basically gets laughed at and told that her opinion really doesn't matter. The bad thing, of course, is that it really _doesn't. _She can talk until she's blue in the face, but she has nothing to back it up. If Noah won't do anything, _she _can't do anything. So she just sits around, lets it piss her off, and tries to ignore the way both Noah and Bekah look at her like she's some sort of uptight fun Nazi instead of, you know, just _trying _to be responsible.

Noah and Bekah have been in New York for almost two years now. They moved here right before Bekah's freshman year, and besides the obvious issues- space/boundaries/_rules- _it's going pretty okay. The engagement is lasting longer than she really thought it would, but maybe taking their time is a good thing. She and Noah have been engaged for a few years, but they're both still young. It's not like they're running out of time or anything, but part of her kind of wishes they could speed it up already. Still, she understands why they haven't. Getting actual _custody _of Bekah took longer than either of them expected, and that was just the beginning of the court drama. There were wrongful death lawsuits and insurance hold ups and... It wasn't easy. Rachel was in New York for most of it, but she knows the toll that it took and the time and attention it required. At the end, they came out with a very sizable settlement from the trucking company and are still waiting on a settlement from the driver's insurance.

But even though the money's been nice and certainly helpful, it definitely didn't come at an easy price.

Both Noah and Bekah have had to work hard learning to take care of themselves and each other. Neither have slipped into their new roles flawlessly, but they at least _try. _Most of the time. God knows they have their moments, and sometimes those moments border on the start of WWIII, but everyone knows what the alternative is. No one wants Bekah to end up in foster care. She _is _only fifteen. So they all do their best.

She hears a key in the lock and knows that it's Noah because she doesn't immediately hear a bag drop onto the floor. The apartment is tiny, so he makes it to the kitchen in less than five seconds and smiles when he sees her.

"What're you making?"

"Rice," she says without doing much besides glancing over. It's an obvious answer to an equally obvious question. Noah makes a face she sees out of the corner of her eye, so she finishes with, "Don't worry, no one's going to _force _you to try it. I'm sure you can find something else around here to eat."

"Yeah, like you."

She immediately rolls her eyes because he never stops. She just shakes her head and refuses to dignify him with any kind of response. It only encourages him.

Not that he needs much encouragement- he's fine taking off on his own. "No, seriously. I mean, shit, that domestic goddess mixed with Jappy sorority girl look... Kinda hot."

"Don't call me a JAP." She accents her demand by slicing a bell pepper a little too roughly. He doesn't seem intimidated by her knife-work, though, and just laughs.

"Well, put on some clothes then. You're knifing shit in your underwear. The next place my brain goes is _obviously _pillow fight."

She has no idea what he's talking about, and she's about ninety-nine percent sure that he doesn't, either. He has a habit of talking out of his ass quite often, and this is no different. Either that, or he's been in the library way too long surrounded by _actual _sorority girls and he's trying to work out some way to make his mid-afternoon fantasy at least semi-reality. Either way, she's _not _just in her underwear, and he's bordering on trouble.

"Keep talking, and I'll knife _you _next," she warns, pointing the blade in his direction to prove her point.

"So this sorority movie turns into a slasher flick? I already saw that one." He takes the knife from her and stands it upright on the cutting board before grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around until her back's pressed right up against the counter. "But if they're casting the sequel, you should totally audition. Because you look hot as shit right now." He squeezes the back of her thigh like that's some kind of proof.

"Noah." Rachel shakes her head and tries to wiggle out of the trap he's currently got her in. She looks at him sternly and wishes she still had the knife to threaten with. "Stop it," she says seriously, turning her head away when he tries to move in for the kiss. "Your sister could come in here at any second."

"She's at a sundown concert." He says this and cuts her off by actually managing to kiss her for a good fifteen seconds before she pulls away.

"She told you that?"

"Yeah, she texted me." He shrugs like it's no big deal.

"A concert where?"

"At the park."

"_What _park?"

Noah just shrugs again. "Does it matter?"

"Um, _yes. _There are about a million parks in this city."

And all she gets in return for that is an eye-roll. "Seriously, Rach. The only thing I got out of that text was _empty apartment, _so come on, take your panties off."

She really can't help the laugh that breaks past her lips or the subsequent squeal when he makes an attempt to do exactly what he just instructed her on. She quiets herself immediately, pushing him away as she tries not to giggle. The walls of this apartment are very thin, and their neighbors aren't exactly their biggest fans- not when it comes to this sort of thing and not when it comes to actual _productive _extra-curricular activities. After all, there's a music comp major, an aspiring actress, and a teenage pianist living in one tiny apartment. Sometimes it gets loud.

Their neighbors are not generally amused.

Rachel points this out as she twists out of his grip and turns back to the stove. "I am _hungry," _she says firmly, grabbing the knife as some sort of fake leverage.

"Okay, you can have rice... or you can have _this." _He raises his eyebrows suggestively, and she rolls her eyes. "It's not a hard choice."

She stands up on her tiptoes until her lips _nearly _reach his and says, "I choose the rice."

"If I get cock-blocked by some goddamned _grains-"_

She puts a hand over his mouth and cuts him off. "Let me have dinner," she says calmly. "Then we'll talk."

"There won't be a lot of talking."

Half an hour later, he makes good on that promise.

Unfortunately, two hours after _that, _she's hungry again, and Bekah still isn't home. Noah's apparently _starving _because he's attempting to make the world's largest and most disgusting sandwich, while Rachel's on the phone leaving a not-so-nice voicemail telling Bekah that she needs to call them immediately and that it's getting too late to be out.

"Babe, it's like ten o'clock," Noah says, licking (_licking) _mayo off of a butter knife.

Rachel resists the urge to puke and just shakes her head in disbelief. "She has _school _tomorrow. You know? That thing you never went to when _you _were fifteen?"

"I went to school." He dumps the knife in the sink and grabs a couple of paper towels. "Sometimes."

She thinks she should smack him, but she doesn't. She's too distracted by the fact that he can actually get his mouth around that monstrosity he calls a sandwich. If he ever accuses her of having a big mouth again, she's reminding him of this exact moment.

"What?" She can barely make out the word because his mouth is so full, and she fights the urge to vomit again.

"You're disgusting."

"You just did some pretty disgusting shit yourself like five minutes ago."

She glares at him. Not only because he has no sense of time (it was much longer than five minutes ago- his brain just short circuits after sex), but also because she didn't do anything that could remotely be categorized as disgusting. And besides, she didn't exactly hear him protesting.

She doesn't get a chance to say anything, though, because Bekah actually shows back up. They hear the door open and the locks being slid back into place. Then the sound of her footsteps head toward the bedrooms, but Rachel's warning stare must be enough to scare Noah into actually acting like an adult.

Well. Sort of.

"Bek!"

"What?" She sounds annoyed, which is surprising to exactly no one.

"Come here!"

Rachel shushes him because the last thing they need is the crazy lady downstairs coming up to scream at them again for making too much noise. Seriously. She comes up and _screams. _Someone should explain the irony to her, but no one's brave enough to volunteer for the job.

Bekah does as she's told, but she looks very bored and unengaged. She's sipping a frozen lemonade through a straw and just raises her eyebrows in question.

"If you're gonna be out late, you should call."

Rachel wants to roll her eyes because it sounds like the most bullshit lecture in the history of bullshit. But she's beaten to it by Bekah who also adds, "Um, it's like ten o'clock."

Rachel sort of hates them both at the moment. They're like the same damn person, and sometimes that drives her absolutely insane.

Noah's face faltering gives away the fact that he completely agrees with her, but he recovers quickly enough. "Well, it's a school night."

One eyebrow raises, and it's absolutely _ridiculous _how much she looks like her brother. Bekah stares at him for a second, glances to his left, and then looks back at him. "Okay, _Rachel," _she says pointedly.

Noah opens his mouth, but Rachel steps in and cuts them both off. "Look," she says flatly, "it's common courtesy. And you need to tell people where you're going because this is a big city, and-"

"And there's all kinds of big, bad monsters out there. And it's a dangerous and scary place for little girls. And _newsflash," _Bekah's voice raises on the last word, "I'm not _five."_

Rachel seriously has to bite down on her tongue because the things she wants to say right now are not very nice. She's so _over _the bitchy teenager routine, but there's nothing she can do about it. So, she just shakes her head. "Fine," she says abruptly. "Whatever."

And then she leaves and goes to her own bedroom, shutting the door a little too loudly. She can easily hear the argument that breaks out in her absence. Noah's trying to tell Bekah something about respect, and she's shooting right back that people need to stop treating her like some little kid. And it's the same argument that pretty much stays on loop around here.

She goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and she can practically time it perfectly with Bekah's bedroom door slamming. Taking a deep breath, Rachel rinses and then rolls her eyes at her own reflection.

Noah's half-naked again by the time she gets to the bedroom. That's a surprise to no one because he sheds clothes at about twice the rate of a normal person. He honestly doesn't _like _them, which obviously Rachel thinks is ridiculous, and she's told him more than once.

"Remember when she used to like me?" she says, feigning fondness as she lets her hair out of its ponytail and feels it hit her back.

"She still likes you." He's speaking around a mouthful of floss, and she won't begrudge him good dental hygiene even if it is kind of disgusting to hold a full conversation at the same time. "She's just... you know, a bitch."

She should tell him how inappropriate that is, but she doesn't have it in her. Truthfully, Bekah _is _kind of a bitch. But then again, she sort of comes by it naturally.

"But like seriously," and his voice drops to mimic his words. "She's _not _a little kid."

"She's not an adult, either," Rachel argues.

"She needs some time to do her own thing."

Rachel understands that, but it doesn't stop her from worrying. It's a never-ending argument, though. They have these conversations at least three times a week. Nothing really ever comes out of them.

"Plus," Noah goes on, and she can hear the tone of his voice change again, "the more of her _own _thing she does, the more time _we _have for _our _thing." He drops the floss into the garbage can and smirks at her before he kind of nudges her just enough to send her backwards onto the bed. She tries to narrow her eyes at him, but it comes off pretty half-heartedly. Still...

"If you make Mrs. Reisenhowser come up here and start screeching, you'll have plenty of time for your _own _thing. I swear to god."

…

A/N: And so it begins! Thanks for reading, reviews are awesome, love, etc., etc.!


	2. Chapter 2

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 2**

…

Open casting calls are basically cattle calls with people instead of cows.

Rachel's done her fair share of them since she actively started auditioning, and she hates them. The people may not actually _be _cows, but plenty of them are vicious enough to be animals. And there are so _many _of them. It's all so impersonal and routine, not to mention positively insane. She'd give anything to be able to skip the open calls, but she's smart enough to know it's the only way she's going to get anywhere. She's unknown, has virtually no experience, and isn't unioned. So really, she has no choice but to bow down with the thousands of other people in her shoes and put in her time, so to speak.

It's March, so it isn't freezing, but it isn't exactly warm, either. There are hundreds of people here, lined up all the way around the empty warehouse where the casting call is being held. Rachel's been here since 5 AM, and she's still pretty far back in the line. Really, she's just glad that it's not raining. She's been here for hours, running on a thermos of hot tea and a sandwich she packed from home. She has her sheet music, and she's been staring at it forever, committing it to memory as if something will suddenly change on it.

By the time she actually makes it to the front of the line, though, she's barely got time to run a brush through her hair and throw on a new coat of lipgloss before some scruffy looking man is ushering her inside, grabbing her resume and headshots, and pointing her to another waiting area. When she finally makes it into the audition room, she feels a fresh wave of nerves settle in her stomach, and she hates that they're there at all. She doesn't know how _not _to be nervous, though.

It doesn't matter. She introduces herself to the three men sitting across the room- she assumes producer, director, casting director, but they don't introduce themselves, so she can't be positive- and hands her sheet music to the pianist. She literally makes it through five lines of her song before the man on the end is holding up his hand to stop the accompaniment and saying, "Thank you, we'll be in touch."

So she's out.

She's not stupid. If they don't ask you to stay for the choreography round, you're out. Still, she plasters a fake smile on her lips, thanks them for their time, and leaves without waiting for them to acknowledge her. Not that it matters, since they won't anyway.

She's not going to cry. The tightness she feels in her throat and the sting behind her eyes is brought on only because she's exhausted. It's not because she wants to throw a tantrum in the middle of the street because she didn't get her way. But this _sucks. _And it never gets any better. Even when she makes through an entire audition, she _still _never gets a callback. And she doesn't understand why. She's talented. She deserves a shot, and fuck them all for not being able to see that.

When she gets home, it's nearly 3, and all she wants to do is eat something and fall asleep. She's surprised to see that she's not alone, though, and that Bekah's not only home but at the piano working on what sounds like a particularly difficult piece. She stops when she hears the door open and looks up as Rachel enters the living room.

"What're you doing home so early?" Rachel slips off her coat and hangs it up.

"Busted pipe." Bekah straightens her music and leans over to mark something in pencil. "We got out at noon."

"Oh." Rachel can't manage much more than that. She needs some water, so she steps into the kitchen to grab some and tries to find some Tylenol in the cabinet. Her head is splitting. "That sounded really good," she calls over her shoulder.

"It's better on a real piano." Bekah's shrugging when Rachel rejoins her in the living room. The tiny Spinet is the only thing that will fit in their apartment, but at least she has access to better instruments in school. This works for practicing at home at least. "I might do it for the sophomore showcase. But I'm not sure yet."

"What else do you have?" Rachel sits down on the bench beside her, and Bekah slides over the sheet music for her choices. Rachel flips through them, and Bekah starts the same piece over with a slightly slower tempo.

She attends an arts high school that's not too far from their apartment. It's a small school, tucked on the upper floors of a larger high school, and although it's not the top performing arts program in the city or anything, it's still a great school. Bekah really likes it, too, which is a good thing because they were all worried that she'd be miserable starting school in a new city and not knowing anyone. She's done really well here, though, and she seems happier than she was in Lima, even without the familiarity of being with people she's grown up around. It's good, though. She adjusted to New York life pretty easily, and she really seems better off here.

"Try this one." Rachel cuts her off in the middle of the song and sets the new music up. Bekah kind of glances over it and then starts to play. It's an easier song than the first, but it flows really beautifully. "My dad used to play this when I was little," she says, smiling at the memory.

Bekah looks over. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure why, but he would play it while he helped me practice." Bekah's fingers slow on the keys, so Rachel takes over. It's harder for her. She hasn't had piano lessons since she was thirteen, so she's definitely not as talented as Bekah is. The song's familiar enough, though, so she manages okay.

"Did you have an audition today?" Rachel nods but doesn't stop playing. "How'd it go?"

She just shakes her head, and then her fingers slow.

She can tell Bekah feels bad for her, which is nice in a way, but she also kind of hates when people feel pity for how unsuccessful she is. Mostly _she _just hates how unsuccessful she is.

"You wanna watch a movie?" Bekah changes the subject, spinning around on the piano bench. "The new Netflix came in."

"Sure. I need to eat first, though. Want anything?"

Bekah shakes her head and goes over to start digging through the mail for the Netflix envelope. Rachel heats up last night's leftovers and joins her on the sofa just as the main credits start rolling. It's nice like this- when they actually get along. She and Bekah are at odds a lot of the time lately, so it's nice when they can still be friends and just hang out.

Nice while it lasts anyway, which is usually not that long.

The next morning, they're back to arguing. Rachel wakes up late, and she finds Bekah in the kitchen wasting time on her own even though she's supposed to be at school in less than twenty minutes. Rachel tries to point this out, and Bekah tells her to get off her back and leave her alone. Noah, of course, is still passed out in bed and absolutely no help. Not that he would contribute much anyway...

So there are a few more snips exchanged, and Bekah leaves with a slam of the door and without saying bye. Pretty much par for the course Thursday morning...

She's already eaten breakfast, showered, and is getting ready for work by the time Noah actually wakes up. He finds her in the bathroom as she's flipping the ends of her ponytail with a curling iron. She half-heartedly tells him that it's gross to carry on a conversation with someone while peeing, but he doesn't pay attention to her. And he still tries to kiss her while he's rinsing his hands.

"You do realize it's almost ten, right?" she asks, ducking out the kiss. "You've got class, and I have to be at work in thirty minutes."

"I know." He doesn't seem to care, though, and he kisses her again.

"Get in the shower," she tells him seriously.

"Fine. But you look really cute right now."

She rolls her eyes as he turns on the shower and proceeds to follow her orders. She looks fifteen years old like this, and she knows it. But she ties a pink ribbon into her ponytail anyway and flicks some mascara over her lashes.

Their bedroom is a mess, and she picks up the random dirty clothes that are littering the floor and tosses them into the hamper before quickly making the bed. She doesn't really have time, but if she doesn't do it, it won't get done. She's kind of getting tired of being the only one who does _anything, _but she doesn't have much of a choice. It's either do it or let the junk pile up all around them. The last time she looked in Bekah's room, she could barely _see _the floor, and she has a feeling she'll be spending her Saturday morning cleaning _that. _Now, though, she has to go to work, and even though she's tired and still kind of pissy about yesterday's audition, she has to put on her show face.

It works well enough.

Thursdays aren't exactly a busy day, but there's still not much downtime. For the most part, it's an okay day. She doesn't really have any problem customers, and she makes ninety bucks. The only mishap of the day comes when she spills a tray of drinks all over herself and has to change into a spare uniform that's about two sizes too big. But overall, it's okay.

It's slightly better when she realizes that not only does Noah know what time her shift is over, but that he's actually waiting around outside for her. He comes in for a second, and she spots him and smiles.

"Hey," he says when she slips over to the door where he's standing. "You almost finished?"

She glances back at the couple who are still occupying one of her booths. They've been finished for nearly twenty minutes, but they haven't made any move to leave yet. "I've still got a table. And side-work."

He nods and readjusts the guitar case he has slung over his shoulder. "I'll wait for you. Text me when you're done, I'm gonna go outside."

And that's that. He comes to pick her up sometimes, even though it's sort of out of the way. But he doesn't mind, and she loves it. It's much better than making the commute back to the apartment alone. And usually they'll do something else before going home- like dinner or a drink or something. Occasionally, he'll be working on something for school, and she'll go with him to the library and help him study. It doesn't really matter what they do, she just likes not being alone.

When she's finally finished (fifteen minutes later when the couple finally leaves and freaking _stiffs _her), she texts Noah from the bathroom while she changes into normal clothes. She sees a missed text from Santana and replies to that one, too, before she drops her phone into her purse and pulls a pair of jeans up her hips.

Noah's outside, and she slips her hand into his and lets him in on the plan. "Santana wants to meet for coffee, so I told her okay."

"When?"

"Now. I mean, she's already there. So I told her we'd meet her."

Noah rolls his eyes and looks annoyed, but he doesn't protest too much, mostly because he knows there's no point. Santana's been in the city since last summer, studying law at Columbia, which is basically shocking to everyone and no one at the same time. Not shocking that she wants to be a lawyer, considering the fact that her mouth was basically _made _for arguing. A little shocking that she managed to get into one of the top law schools in the country... But even _that _isn't _too _shocking because she's always been exceptionally smart- just sometimes less than motivated.

Regardless, Rachel _loves _it.

New York is so much better now- with Santana and Noah and Bekah... She's not sure that it could _get _much better. Well, obviously, it would be _way _better if she actually had a decent job or was acting or was getting _anywhere _with her career. But on a _personal _level, she thinks it's as good as it gets.

One subway ride later, and they're getting off in Santana's neighborhood and walking a couple of blocks to the coffee house she prefers. Noah spends the whole trip telling her about some idiot in his theory class and how the teacher "smacked him down" today. Rachel, who was "smacked down" on multiple occasions while she was in school, has more sympathy for the idiot than she does for the professor.

When they get to the coffee house, they see Santana at a corner table with her laptop open in front of her. She's got some weirdly fascinated look on her face and doesn't even glance up until Noah's dropping his guitar case into the empty seat beside her.

"Look at this," she says slowly, bypassing any and all greetings. She turns her laptop a little so that they can get a better peek, and Rachel sees that Facebook is pulled up and that it's open to Finn's girlfriend's page.

"You're friends with Destiny?" She's mildly surprised, but Santana just rolls her eyes.

"Just fucking look!" she snaps.

So Rachel looks. And Noah looks. And then they look at each other because there is definitely a post at the top of her page labeled _Coming Soon _and an ultrasound picture right underneath it.

"What the fuck?" It's Noah who says it, but it's pretty much a formulated response for what all three of them are thinking.

Santana's eyes are kind of bright, though, obviously piqued with new gossip. "Right?" she asks, and then she giggles. "What the fuck? But seriously, I thought they broke up?"

"They got back together," Rachel mumbles, moving her head to look closer at the ultrasound. "Guess we know why."

Noah actually looks kind of pissed, and then he gets his phone out and puts it to his ear as he drops into a chair and pulls the computer closer to him.

"What the fuck, dude?" he asks, ten seconds later when he obviously gets an answer. "Congratufuckinglations." Rachel glances over his head at Santana and sees her smirking as they listen to one side of a conversation. "Yeah, I fucking know... It's already on Facebook, dude... Yeah... Well, what the fuck? You couldn't fucking tell someone?"

"Hey, congratulations on knocking one up for _real _this time!" Santana's leaning over to get her mouth close to the phone, and the glare Noah sends her when his head jerks around is almost comical. Santana laughs, and Rachel comes close, but she bites her tongue when she sees that glare switch warningly in her direction.

He's obviously pissed now because he gets up and leaves the table with the phone, sending another nasty glare at Santana, which she promptly ignores.

"So, you enjoying the taste of pussy?" she asks, nodding at Noah's retreating back as Rachel takes the recently vacated seat. "It's good, right?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, wondering, not for the first time, how she managed to become friends with someone so vile. "I can't believe she's pregnant," she says, still kind of in disbelief and totally ignoring the fact that Santana just accused her fiance of having a vagina.

"Why not? Finn's a dumbass. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

In all fairness, it's not like she got pregnant a month into them knowing each other. They've been together off and on (mostly on) for almost four years. That in itself is pretty shocking because when Destiny first entered the picture, Rachel was pretty sure it would be something more of a summer fling than an actual long-standing relationship.

Almost on cue, she hears her phone buzzing, and she digs it out of her purse. "Hello?"

"Destiny's pregnant!" Bekah's voice sounds very highly amused, which is a strange tone for her these days.

"Yeah, I just saw..."

"What the hell? Why didn't they tell anybody?"

"I don't know. Noah's talking to Finn right now."

"I bet she did it on purpose because she knew he was gonna dump her."

Rachel rolls her eyes, finding that possibility just a bit outlandish. "I'm sure it was nothing that extreme."

"Yeah, maybe." Bekah giggles, like she thinks this is the funniest thing in the world. "Whatever, tell me what Finn says."

"Okay. I'll see you at home."

She hangs up just as Noah gets back to the table, tucking his own phone back into his pocket. "She's six weeks," he tells them, moving his case to the floor and taking that chair. "They found out on Monday."

"He's sure it's his, isn't he?" Santana's voice and face are deadpan, but then she follows with, "I mean, he actually had sex with this one, right?"

Rachel looks out the window so that she won't laugh. Noah looks like he might kill Santana, and it's better just to leave them to it.

"Would you shut your fucking mouth?"

Santana, of course, laughs at that because, really, it _is _kind of funny. Really, though, it's best that they just leave it at that instead of dredging up the past and the fact that _Noah _was actually responsible the last time Finn thought he was having a baby. Or the fact that he was dating Santana at the time. Or the fact that Rachel's the one who broke the story.

Just better to leave it all alone...

"I'm getting a drink," Noah announces, standing up and still looking thoroughly pissed. He nudges Rachel's foot, and she looks at him. "You want?" She nods, and then Santana clears her throat and taps the lid of her own almost empty cup. Noah looks at it, then looks at her. "Fuck you."

Both girls roll their eyes as Santana tugs her laptop back in front of her and minimizes the Internet. She's got a Word document pulled up and a textbook open beside her, so clearly she's here attempting to actually do some work. Still, she trades a few mindless bits of conversation with Rachel until Noah shows back up with a drink carrier and three cups. He hands each of them one (Santana's, more begrudgingly) and then sits back down.

"So they got back together because she found out she was pregnant?" Rachel takes the lid off her coffee and blows on it, stirring the soy milk in a little more so that it's not so swirled. "Or were they already getting back together?"

Noah shrugs. "I don't know. He tried to make it seem like they were already getting back together, but it's probably bullshit. Now they're getting married."

He drops it into the conversation like it's not _huge information. _Santana looks up from her paper, but it's Rachel who completely stops what she's doing (cooling her coffee) and looks at him incredulously.

"They are _not _getting married before us," she says seriously, and she feels a tug of anger at the thought.

"Good job," Santana mutters, glancing up at Noah from beneath her eyelashes as she sips green tea through a straw.

"Well, unless we somehow manage to get married before Saturday, then yeah, they are." He shrugs like it's not a big deal, but what the hell? It's a _very _big deal.

"They're getting married _Saturday?" _Rachel stares at him like he's lost his mind. "_This _Saturday?"

Noah just nods.

"Are they having a wedding? What? Why didn't anyone _tell_ us?" Rachel's not sure why her blood pressure seems to shoot up, but she feels suddenly very hysterical.

"They're not having a wedding." Noah raises an eyebrow at her, obviously noticing the fact that she's on the edge of a nervous breakdown. "Chill out."

"But this isn't _fair! _We've been engaged for _years! _They can't just come in out of nowhere and get married before us!"

She sees Santana lick her lip and knows that she's struggling to keep a straight face. She also knows that this entire thing is bordering on ridiculous and hysteria, but she can't help it. Seriously, she _can't help it. _Usually, she's not bothered by the fact that they've had a relatively long engagement. There have been plenty of things that have kept them from getting married, and all of those things are valid reasons. But shit. _Finn and Destiny _can't beat them!

"Well, what the hell do you want to do?" Noah's kind of snapping at her now, but she barely notices. "You wanna fucking go to city hall? Let's go."

She narrows her eyes at him because he _knows _she's not going to city hall. Growing up, she really _wasn't _that girl who dreamed of getting married in a big white wedding. She was never even really sure she wanted to _get _married, basing her opinion on the fact that her own parents have never been married and are perfectly happy. She also didn't think that it was right to get married when that option wasn't offered to everyone.

But then she fell in love.

And then she got engaged... And then she started thinking... And for the past three years, she's had all kinds of plans running through her head. She's been mentally planning a wedding for years, even though nothing beyond the ring on her finger is set in stone. So maybe that should change.

"Pull up the calendar," she orders Santana, motioning at the laptop. Santana kind of looks at her strangely, but does as she's told. Rachel slides the computer across the table until it's back in front of her, and then she flips forward a few months. She gets to June and runs through some dates in her head- Noah's school, Bekah's school...

"June 24th," she announces, grabbing her phone and typing a note into it. "We're getting married June 24th."

Both Noah and Santana just stare at her. She looks from one to the other and finds herself extremely annoyed. "_What?" _she demands.

"That's like... in three months." Noah just keeps staring at her, and she shrugs.

"So? That's plenty of time."

"You do realize they'll already be married by then?"

"Well, just barely." She huffs a little bit, and she knows it makes her look and sound like a child, but she doesn't care. "And hopefully no one else will have a chance to zoom in and steal the spotlight before then."

"Why don't you just plan your wedding for her due date?" Santana asks breezily. She takes another long drink of her tea. "Then you can really get back at them."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

And Santana just shrugs. "I'm just saying... Good luck trying to work all this shit out in three months."

"It will be _fine." _Rachel looks at Noah who still seems kind of stunned by the whole thing. "June 24th," she repeats. "Write it down somewhere. I have to call my dads."

She gets up and leaves the two of them at the table as she goes outside to make her phone call. She can't _believe _this. Finn Hudson better be scared because she's prepared to kick his ass the next time she sees him.

They shouldn't be allowed to _beat _her. It's seriously unfair.

…

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are awesome!


	3. Chapter 3

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 3**

…

Rachel spends an hour on the phone with Finn trying to talk him out of getting married.

"That's a _huge _step, Finn."

"Um, we're having a baby."

"That's no reason to go jumping into even _more _life-changing experiences. You should really wait."

"Baby's pretty much as life-changing as it gets..."

"You should just think about this. Just give it some time."

"We _have _thought about it."

"Think about it some _more. _And then if you still want to get married in, like, August or something, go for it!"

It doesn't work.

Destiny Mulligan officially becomes Mrs. Destiny Hudson on Saturday, and that's that. Rachel's livid and can barely even muster up a convincing congratulations. Noah thinks she's ridiculous, and she can tell Santana thinks it's kind of funny. But it's just _crazy. _They didn't have any plans to get married- they break up every other month! Really, it's just insane.

They don't have a real wedding. They go to a little chapel with basically just their parents, and they get married in a ten minute ceremony that can basically be summed up in the three pictures that are taken. And honestly, that's just rude. Rachel thinks it's really inconsiderate of them to just get married and not invite anyone. If they're supposed to be such good friends, she can't understand why they'd want to get married on basically the spur of the moment and leave everyone else out altogether.

Plus, it's not like they don't _know _she and Noah are supposed to go first.

But whatever. They can have their little chapel nuptials and pretend like everyone doesn't know that the only reason they're married is because they're having an unplanned baby. Rachel's not bitter or anything. There's no point in being bitter.

She'll just be _better._

She is extremely Type A, so organizing and planning are not difficult tasks for her. She's been thinking about this wedding for years, so she has plenty of ideas. The problem, of course, is that all of these ideas are just hypothetical. Sitting down and actually getting them onto paper is a little bit trickier, especially considering the fact that she now has to make the major decision of _location._

Now that she's setting her plans into motion, she sort of sees how three months is really not enough time to plan one of these things. But she refuses to change the date and prove everyone right. Instead, she's going to prove them all _wrong _by planning the most perfect wedding imaginable. New York City is a prime location- there are a _thousand _perfect locations to hold the perfect fairytale wedding. The problem, of course, is that all those perfect spots are already taken for that Saturday in June, most of them having been booked _years _ago.

So... that's a problem.

But it's fine. Everyone knows the most important part of wedding planning is the dress anyway, and she definitely doesn't waste any time on _that. _She makes Santana go with her to a few of the smaller dress shops in the city. She's trying to avoid the big names- at least for now- mostly because she wants something more unique.

And the second she puts on the first dress, she really can't remember why she waited this long to actually get married.

She's not at all sure what it is, but there's something about a wedding dress that just screams _magical. _She feels like a princess. She doesn't even care that there's an entirely too chipper blonde lady watching her and smiling so widely that her cheeks might literally break.

"Let me find you a headpiece," she exclaims happily as she heads off to another corner of the store and leaves Rachel to view herself in circle of mirrors in the changing room.

"You look like you just puked up a Disney movie," Santana says dryly. She eyes the Cinderella-styled dress and makes a face.

"I think it's pretty." Rachel loves it. She loves the full ballroom skirt and the way the bodice hugs her tightly, and she loves the sweetheart neckline. It's gorgeous, and she _feels _gorgeous wearing it.

"It's pretty if you want to look like some lame ass princess wannabe. It's not even like a little bit hot."

"I'm not sure looking _hot _on my wedding day is really my main concern."

"It should be."

Rachel just rolls her eyes and turns to see the back of the dress. "You can just look hot enough for both of us."

"Every day occurrence."

The sales assistant returns with a tiara and smiles giddily as she places it on Rachel's head and then fluffs her hair out around it. "You look like a _princess!"_

Santana just raises her eyebrows smugly and leans against the door frame.

She goes on an audition a few days later, and she's shocked to actually find herself having a real conversation with the casting director. Normally, she sings and either gets cut or sent to the next round. No one ever really wants to _talk, _but the director keeps her for a few minutes after her song is finished.

"You're very talented."

"Thank you." She can't help the wide smile that immediately hits her face. She loves compliments of any sorts, but compliments from people who really, _really _matter are the best kind.

"You have tremendous breath control, and your pitch is absolutely perfect."

Rachel just continues to smile, and then she nods a little bit because she doesn't know what else to do.

The smile falters a little bit when he says, "I'm not sure you're right for this production, though."

"Oh. Okay." She tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Well, thank you for your time."

"Can you dance?"

She stops on her way to collect her music and just nods nervously. "Singing is my forte, but I've had several years of dance training."

"And Tisch, I see." He's looking down at her resume.

"I just graduated last year."

The director just kind of stares at her and chews his lip for a few seconds. "I don't know if I see you in this. But stick around for the choreography."

Rachel's face immediately breaks into smile, and she nods. "Thank you," she says quickly, hurrying toward the door where a PA directs her down the hall to a holding room.

The dance round goes well enough to land her a reading. It's very late in the day by the time they finish, so all the remaining people get time frames to return the next day for their readings. It feels _almost _like having a real audition and not just an open call, and she's on a natural sort of high by the time she finds herself heading toward the subway to go home.

That good mood is sort of smothered when she gets home and finds Noah in a slightly less pleasant mood.

"Do you know where Bekah is?" he asks the second she comes through the door.

She's a little annoyed that he does say, you know, _hi _or something more conventional, but she just shakes her head as she turns the locks. "I haven't seen her since last night. I've been at an audition all day."

He doesn't comment on that, either, or ask how it went or anything. He just looks pissed off and says, "I've been calling her for two hours, and she won't answer. I was planning on going out for dinner tonight."

"Well, did she go to school?"

"I guess. I mean, she was gone when I woke up, so I assume that's where she went. That better be where she fucking went."

"Do you want me to call her?"

He just shrugs and still looks angry. So Rachel calls her and unsurprisingly gets no answer. She just shrugs when she drops her phone down on the end table and sits down on the sofa.

"Whatever," he snaps, and she can tell it's going to be a long night. "We'll just go without her."

"Go where?"

"To dinner. She can fucking starve."

Rachel really wants to roll her eyes, but she knows better. He's in a pissy mood, and he's going to take any and everything as a personal attack. So she just kind of sighs and shrugs, and they spend the next two hours waiting for a table and eating at a restaurant just three blocks from their apartment. They don't talk about much of anything because he's so mad and keeps snapping at her. She decides to cut him a break because she knows he's just stressed.

But when ten o'clock rolls around, and Bekah's still not home, she starts to get worried, too.

"I'm calling the police."

She's shocked at that, but Noah seems legitimately serious. Funny because he's usually the one saying things like _only _ten o'clock. But apparently honestly having no idea where his sister is makes ten o'clock seem much more serious. So Rachel tries to be rational.

"I'm sure she's fine. Okay, let's just wait."

So they wait. And when they hear a key in the lock at 11:14, Rachel doesn't move from the sofa because she's pretty sure she needs to stay out of the way.

There's a huge fight- the kind that they don't really have that often because Noah isn't even remotely strict anymore. It happens almost instantaneously, with him screaming at Bekah the second she's through the door and demanding to know where she's been and why she hasn't answered her phone. She tries to defend herself for a few seconds anyway, claiming that she left her phone at home that morning and then even going to her room to find the phone and prove it. And there it is, set to silent with sixteen missed calls. Noah doesn't care, though, and he screams that at her along with the fact that she should have used someone's phone and called. She tells him to leave her the fuck alone and stop yelling, and he tells he'll do whatever he goddamn wants because he's an adult and she's a child.

And then it just goes downhill from there.

If there's one thing Bekah hates, it's being called a child. She doesn't like when anyone says that, and she definitely doesn't like it being used in that way. She's crazy and dramatic, of course, like all teenage girls, but it's got to be harder when you're under the control of someone who really is just a few years older. Bekah clearly resents that, but she's also smart enough to know that she doesn't have any other options. But she doesn't like it- it's bothered her since she was twelve years old and first discovered the words _you can't tell me what to do! _It's worse now that she's older and likely _feels _older. There's no way that being told what to do by your older brother is an easy thing to deal with.

So she goes crazy.

She starts screaming at him, and there's a lot of cussing and insults, and the people next door start banging on the wall telling them to shut up. Rachel just watches and does nothing because, honestly, she just doesn't feel like getting involved. She always feels guilty even thinking about it, but sometimes she wonders how different everything would be if they weren't forced into this position. It's not that she doesn't love Bekah because she _does, _and she would never, _ever _want her to be anywhere else, but she just wonders how things would be if they didn't _have _to live this life. If things had never changed. If their mom was still alive and if Bekah was still with her in Lima and not being forced into living under a custody arrangement that she can't stand. And if Noah never had to deal with all the responsibilities that come with that custody arrangement... They would probably all be happier.

But then Rachel feels like a shitty person for even thinking it, so she blocks it from her mind.

She comes back to reality just in time to see Bekah heading (_stomping) _toward her room. Noah is still pissed and grabs her arm (probably a little too tightly), and something inside of Bekah just seems to snap. She yanks her arm away and shoves him so roughly that he actually stumbles. Then she screams, "Don't touch me!" and slams her bedroom door so hard that a picture frame falls off the wall and shatters on the living room rug.

Rachel just looks at it from her place on the sofa, and the sudden silence seems louder than all of the screaming combined. It goes on for what seems like a really long time, too, but it's only a few minutes. Noah spends that time glaring silently at the now closed door, and Rachel does nothing but watch the shards of glass on the rug as if they'll magically fly back together and fix themselves.

They don't.

"Will you go talk to her?" he finally asks, and Rachel takes that as her cue to move. She doesn't answer him, just goes to get the broom and the dustpan to clean up the picture frame. He takes the broom from her when she gets back, and they don't say anything as he sweeps up the glass and pushes them into the dustpan she's holding. Then he asks again, "Can you talk to her?"

And Rachel's not sure why, or really even _if, _she's actually angry. But she finds herself straightening up and handing the now contained glass shards to him as she says, "No, I have an audition tomorrow. I need to go to bed."

She goes to their bedroom and shuts the door behind her. She's down to her underwear by the time he takes care of the glass and actually follows her, so she promptly ignores him as she continues pulling her hair up.

"I thought the audition was today." She hears the mattress squeak a little bit when he sits down, and she pulls open the dresser to dig for a t-shirt.

"I have a callback tomorrow morning for a reading. Not that you care."

"Why are you doing that shit?"

"What shit?" She pulls the shirt over her head and then finally turns around to look at him. He's staring at her, that look in between fight and defeat on his face.

"Saying shit like that when you know it's not true. Like I don't fucking care or something."

"Well, considering the fact that you haven't so much as asked me how the audition went in the past six hours that I've been home... I think it's a pretty fair assessment."

He rolls his eyes, and despite the fact that it's a totally common gesture from him, it makes her even madder. "I was worried about Bekah in case you didn't fucking notice."

"Oh, I noticed. I also noticed that you couldn't be bothered to even ask how my day went."

"Oh, my god, Rachel, stop." He stands up, and she can't tell if he's mad or just tired. "Stop trying to pick fights with me over stupid shit."

And that's absolutely all she needs to hear.

"Sorry," she says sarcastically but without a rise to her voice at all, "but that _stupid shit _happens to be my _life. _I'm sorry if you find it so terribly uninteresting."

She doesn't wait for a reply or even for the requisite frustrated groan he lets out two seconds later. Instead, she just goes to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. He stops in the doorway on his way out of the apartment.

"I'm not fucking dealing with this bullshit."

She doesn't acknowledge him, and he doesn't wait around for a response. She hears the door open and close and then hears the lock being clicked into place. Part of her wants to go put the chain and the deadbolt up just to be a bitch, but she doesn't. She just scrubs her makeup off and goes to bed.

He gets home a little after three.

She knows this because she wakes up with his hand under her shirt and his lips on her neck. She can smell the alcohol on him, and it's not at all attractive. She grabs his wrist, pulls it away, and turns her head so that he can no longer kiss her. Then she rolls onto her side so that her back is to him because it's easy to remember that she's angry when he's doing a great job of reminding her that not only did he make her mad in the first place but that he ran off to get drunk instead of dealing with it. So no, she doesn't feel bad.

She hears him sigh and can feel him laying down against the pillows. There's silence for a couple of minutes, and then he finally says, "Rachel, stop. I can't deal with two girls being fucked pissed at me, this apartment isn't big enough."

She doesn't say anything. She just lies there with her back to him, and then she feels him shifting, rolling over until he's right at her ear.

"Please," he says quietly. "I'm sorry. You know I care about everything you do."

She can tell he's drunk because he's never this sappy when he's sober. And since that's what she's most angry about, she calls him out.

"You could have said that before you went to a bar and came home wasted."

"I'm not even drunk."

That's a lie. He might not be fall down, stumbling drunk, but he's had plenty to drink. Even if she couldn't literally smell it on him, she could tell. He acts differently when he's been drinking- the way he words things _and _the way he does things. She knows him better than anyone, and she can tell.

"I'm tired," she mumbles. "I need to sleep."

"What time is your audition?"

"9:30. Not that you care."

"Fucking..." She hears him draw in a breath that's probably supposed to a way to reign in his temper. "Rachel, I _do _care. You know I do. Stop saying that."

"I think he really liked me," she says quietly, and maybe she's not really that mad because when Noah slips an arm around her waist, she doesn't try to shrug him off or push him away. "The casting director. He liked me."

"That's awesome," and he really sounds like he means it.

"He said I have perfect pitch."

"Well, you do..."

"I know. But I like to hear other people say it."

He laughs, and she bites down on a smile. She turns her head a little bit so that she can look at him, and he gives her two raised eyebrows and a hopeful look.

"Are you mad at me?"

"A little bit."

"Not as much as Bekah is?" She shakes her head, and he kind of smiles. "Good." Then he kisses her cheek, and she lays back down.

Things are quiet for awhile. He plays with the ends of her hair silently, and it's so soothing that she almost falls right back to sleep. Right before she does, though, she feels his lips at her ear again. "Hey, Rach?"

"Hmm?"

"You have perfect pitch."

He whispers it, and she giggles. He catches her elbow when she brings it back to smack his ribs, and then he moves his hand down to her own, linking their fingers together just in time for her eyes to close again.

The next morning, she goes to the audition feeling confident and optimistic. It feels much different from the usual open calls she attends. She doesn't have to wait outside in line. She gets to go right in to a holding area and wait for her name to be called. There are several other girls waiting as well, some of them she recognizes vaguely from the audition circuit and some that she's never seen before. Most of them look slightly older than her, and most of them are blonde.

She doesn't let this intimidate her.

When she's finally called back to the audition room, she's already memorized the side she was given upon arrival. The same casting director from the day before is here, along with three new faces. The one she recognizes smiles at her and asks her about her morning. There are a few minutes of casual conversation, and then she's asked to read.

She does well. It's odd to recite the lines opposite a monotone script reader, but she does her best to put as much inflection and emotion as possible into the brief scene. She's not _entirely _sure what the show's about, but she has enough of a gist to piece together a decent grip of the character. And she thinks she doesn't a pretty good job of it.

When she's finished, two of the four people at the table are writing things down. The casting director from the day before is once again watching her with that far off look of contemplation. He chews on his lip a little bit and then leans over to whisper something to the lady beside him. They have a brief whispered conversation, and the whole thing makes Rachel extremely nervous.

Finally, he looks back to her. "I'm just not sure we could make this thing work." He sounds vaguely apologetic, and she forces herself not to show her disappointment. "You're very talented, but I'm not sure this is the right role for you. We'll be in touch."

She thanks them and leaves, knowing, of course, that she's out.

When she gets home, she's glad to find the apartment empty. She makes sure to get all of her tears out before anyone else comes home.

When is too soon to give up?

…


	4. Chapter 4

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 4**

…

The worst thing about Bekah being fifteen going on sixteen is the fact that all of her friends are the same age.

Since their apartment is just a few blocks from the school, it tends to stay crowded with teenagers fairly often. Rachel stays pretty busy between work and auditions and various lessons, so she's not around a lot of afternoons and manages to avoid a lot of the moments when her home is overrun by high schoolers.

Today, though, is not one of those days.

She has a rare day off, and she spends almost the entire day lying in bed watching a marathon on AMC. Everything is quiet and peaceful, and she takes _two _naps. Bekah's at school, Noah's in class for the morning and work for the afternoon. She's all alone, and it's great.

Until four o'clock when she's painting her toenails and hears the door open and slam and a whole group of voices.

"Hello?"

She calls back to answer Bekah and let her know that she's there. She keeps her eyes on her feet when she hears the door open. "Hey, Pria and Ally are here. We're gonna make pizza, you want some?"

Rachel nods and screws the cap back on her nail polish, stretching her toes apart and lifting them off the ground.

"Did you even get out of bed today?"

"Not really."

"Lucky!" Bekah laughs and then falls down onto the bed beside her. She drops onto her back and crosses her hands on her stomach. "I wish I was in bed all day. Then I might have missed the geometry test from _hell." _Rachel smiles a little bit and bends forward to examine her toes. "But guess what happened today." Bekah doesn't even wait a second for the requested guess. "This stupid bitch, Cameron, tried to get up at lunch, but she caught her foot on the chair and then fell over like face first into the table. It was _hilarious. _I mean, she busted her nose like right open, but she's a bitch, so it was great."

"Yeah, that sounds hysterical."

Bekah rolls her eyes and thumps her in the back. "Shut up, it really was. Where did you get that color?"

"Duane Reade."

"I want it." And when she holds out her hand like a needy toddler, Rachel just hands it to her and stands up to carefully step into a pair of flip flops. Bekah gets up, too. "Come on, we're starving. You can come supervise and make sure we don't put anything unsavory into the pizza."

When they get to the kitchen, the other two girls are already pulling the dough out of the freezer and gathering up the other ingredients. Luckily, most of the food in the house (including all bread products and dairy substitutes) are vegan-friendly. It took awhile, but she eventually got the Puckermans to stop complaining about the "fake food," and now they hardly notice. Of course, they'll both still rip into a steak or a very un-Kosher bacon cheeseburger when they're out, but... baby steps.

"Hey, Rachel." Ally smiles and flips her ponytail over her shoulder while she messes with the oven. Rachel just leans against the counter and watches. This should be interesting because she's almost positive that these three girls are incapable of cooking just about anything.

Pria and Ally are both pretentious rich girls who like to pretend that by attending a liberal performing arts school they're really not. They're nice enough for the most part, at least when Rachel's within hearing distance, but she's pretty sure they teeter on the mean girl edge. Which means that Bekah probably does, too. Rachel has issue with that for obvious reasons, but it's really hard to bring up when she has no proof.

"So where's your brother?" It's Pria who asks that, ignoring the way Ally's actually trying to cook and looking right at Bekah. The question itself is not surprising in the least because Pria (and approximately half of Bekah's other friends) pretty much only show up for the "eye candy." Rachel's not making that up- she actually heard a conversation that flat-out stated it. And the conversation took place right in front of her, so clearly teenage girls have no sense of boundaries whatsoever.

"He's at work." Bekah's eyes narrow almost instantly as she adds, "And also? Gross."

"And slightly inappropriate." Rachel doesn't care at all about pointing out the fact that these girls need to have _some _kind of respect for other people's relationships. It doesn't matter if they're just teenagers- they could at least try to be less obvious about it.

"I just asked where he was," Pria says, shrugging defensively. It's dumb, of course, and everyone knows that she comes over here solely to flirt with him and try to get his attention. It's silly, of course, but it's still annoying.

They eat the pizza (only slightly burnt), and the girls head back to Ally's for probably the rest of the night. Rachel says it's fine because at least she'll know where Bekah is. And it's Friday, so if she wants to stay over, it's okay. She just makes her promise to check in if they go out, and Bekah agrees because even she knows that's not an unreasonable request.

All in all, the day's been pretty good and relaxing.

That changes, of course, when Santana calls and says they need to go out because she's spent more than thirty hours in the library that week and just can't take it anymore. Rachel tries to talk her out of it and invites her over instead, but Santana's adamant. They need real drinks at a real bar- Rachel's homemade cocktails just aren't going to do it for her tonight apparently.

So she comes over, and when Noah finally gets home from work, they convince him to take them out. Not that it requires much convincing. It's an excuse to get drunk, and that's pretty much all he needs.

They go to dinner first, and he makes a half-hearted complaint of two for one. "I have to buy two women food and only get to sleep with one... That doesn't seem fair."

If she didn't know he was joking, Rachel might be offended. As it is, though, she's not. She just rolls her eyes and takes a bite of her salad.

"Think of it as payback for all the times you _didn't _buy me dinner." Santana smiles sweetly at his glare, and Rachel wonders how in the hell any of them ever ended up here.

Most of the dinner conversation is taken up by Santana filling them in on the latest law school gossip and the fact that her criminal law professor keeps checking her out and making inappropriate comments.

"I bet if I fucked him, I could not show up for class for the rest of the year and still pass."

"I thought you were on chicks for now."

Rachel listens to the conversation and tries not to roll her eyes. Santana's sexual preferences change as often as some people change underwear. Everyone at the table knows this, so it makes Santana and Noah's conversation even more ridiculous.

"Whatever," Santana shrugs. "That doesn't mean I can't be back on dudes if it was going to help my education."

"Gross." It's Rachel who speaks up and points out the obvious.

"Disgusting," Santana agrees. "Which is why I would never actually do it. But the prospect is good blackmail to have in my back pocket."

"Your sluttiness never fails to amaze me." Noah sips a beer and raises an eyebrow at Santana who fixes him with a smirk.

"Oh, I've known that for years, baby."

Rachel should smack them both, but it's not worth it. They're ridiculous, and it's something she's been forced to adapt to over the years. Something that, she sometimes thinks, has only gotten worse.

They can go from hating each other to being best friends within seconds, and later when they're at the bar and both have a few drinks in them, this is evident once again.

It's no secret that they tend to get along much better when they're drinking. A lot of that has to do with the fact that, as Rachel has said for years, they are essentially the same person at their cores, so alcohol makes it easier for both of them to accept that and embrace it. Sometimes they get along _so _well that it's _Rachel _who feels like the third wheel.

They're all sitting at a high top, and when Rachel comes back after excusing herself to the restroom, she catches on pretty quickly that Noah and Santana are checking out girls together. Once upon a time, this would really have upset her, but she's long past the point of suffering from self-doubt and insecurity. She doesn't _love _the fact that her boyfriend is checking out other women, but she also knows he's not going to cheat on her.

And since she's had a few drinks herself, she doesn't feel shy at all in climbing back into her chair and saying calmly, "Since you guys are BFFs now, Santana, I hope you don't mind hosting a house guest on your sofa."

Santana laughs, and Noah looks kind of worried for a few seconds before he nudges Rachel's foot with his own and leans in to kiss her slightly puckered lips. She lets him, but she keeps her face stony to let him know that the only girl he needs to be checking out is _her._

They move onto shots, which is really not a good idea because it just means they end up getting drunk way too quickly. Or Rachel does anyway. She's always been a lightweight, and college didn't really do much to change that. But she's in a happy mood tonight, and her earlier annoyance pretty quickly disappears as she holds both of their hands in her lap and tells them how much she loves them.

Eventually, they're _all _drunk, and Santana announces that she's going to find someone to buy her more drinks. She practically falls off her bar stool, and it takes all of two minutes before she's at the bar with some guy holding a free martini. And while Santana's busy, Rachel finds herself giggling loudly and practically spilling her own drink when Noah basically starts feeling her up right there in public. She's drunk enough not to care that much, though, so she just elbows him very half-heartedly and then proceeds to let him do whatever he wants.

They might get kicked out the bar for indecency or something. He's off his stool and standing in front of her, and they're making out pretty heavily. She knows it's not appropriate and that they're not teenagers and should probably stop, but she can't really make any of that actually happen because it's kind of fun.

She finds his tongue suddenly absent from her mouth, though, and feels a hand on her lower back. Santana's there between them, one hand on Rachel's back and one hand tucked into Noah's back pocket. She's leaning in right between them and very pointedly whispers, "That dude is a total creeper!"

Rachel wants to ask why he's such a creeper, but a Journey song comes on, and Santana practically shrieks before pulling her off her stool. She stumbles when her feet hit the ground, but two sets of hands steady her. They all get reminiscent when they hear Journey songs, and it's probably very dumb that they do. They just can't help it.

"Come dance with me!" Santana's found Noah's beer and finished it off and is dropping the bottle back to the table before he even notices. She ignores his protest and grabs Rachel's hand, dragging her away from the table to the open area of the bar where absolutely _no one _is dancing.

They look like idiots, most likely, but neither one of them care. It's just fun, and they're both too drunk to be concerned with how they look to a bunch of strangers. Santana spins Rachel under her arm while she sings along to the song, and Rachel doesn't even have any desire to point out that she's completely off-key in her serenade. Instead, she just sings with her, and they both crack up when a whole group of people turn to stare at them.

"Hey." Rachel turns her head and sees that the creeper is back and that he's smiling at them in what she has to admit is a pretty creepy way. "I thought you ran off, Jessica."

Rachel feels Santana jab her in the back and knows immediately that she gave a fake name. She tries really hard not to laugh, and obviously Santana thinks the best way to control that is to literally tighten her grip. So she turns until Rachel's directly in front of her and clasps both hands over her stomach as she rests her chin on Rachel's shoulder.

"I'm still here," she says cheerily, and when Rachel giggles, she hugs her just a little more tightly.

"Who's your friend?"

"Elizabeth," Rachel answers immediately, and Santana practically chokes on a snort. The creeper doesn't clue into the fact that they're apparently deciding to be brunette versions of the Sweet Valley twins from Ohio. He just smiles and offers his hand to shake.

"I'm Rick." Rachel has a very strong suspicion that Rick is not _his _real name, either, but she just smiles and shakes his hand. "You ladies want a drink?"

Rachel knows she's at the point of being one drink away from having memory splotches, but Santana likes anything that's free, so she finds herself being dragged toward the bar and having a vodka tonic shoved into her hand. When Rick turns around to pay, Santana leans over and hisses in her ear, "You might have be my girlfriend in a few minutes."

She frowns and looks over. "_Santana!" _she hisses back, and Santana stomps on her foot.

"It's _Jessica," _she reminds her. "And seriously, make out with me before you let me get drunk and go home with that dude."

Rachel has exactly _zero _plans to let Santana go home with _anyone _because she's extremely drunk. Rachel herself is also extremely intoxicated, but she's coherent to the point to know that Santana only needs to go back to her own apartment that night. And that she needs to go back _alone. _

It's at that point that Rachel realizes how badly she needs to pee, and she tells Santana this, clearly indicating that she needs to be accompanied. So they sneak away from 'Rick' while his back is turned and hurry back to their own table where Noah is flipping through his phone. He looks up when they get back and just shakes his head.

"Watch these," Rachel says seriously, setting her glass down on the table and then taking Santana's and doing the same. Then she grabs her hand and pulls her toward the bathroom at the back of the bar.

They're good friends- _very _good friends. They're also both very drunk. So it doesn't seem at all out of the ordinary to actually head into the _stall _together. Nor does it seem particularly disgusting when Santana slides down to the floor and leans her back against the stall wall while Rachel goes about actually peeing.

"I am going to be _so _hungover tomorrow." Santana's eyes close as her head hits the metal behind her.

"Me, too! And I'm supposed to work in the morning."

"Call in." Santana's eyes are still closed as she makes what appears to be the perfect suggestion, even though calling in on a Saturday is _definitely _not suggested. They can't do anything if she's sick- and she has a feeling she's _definitely _going to be sick.

Noah's still waiting at their table when they get back. He's nursing a fresh beer, and their table has been cleared except for the two nearly full glasses they just placed there. Vaguely, Rachel wonders just how much she's had to drink, but her mind goes blank after the third LIT and the second round of tequila shots. She won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow.

Oh, well. That just means she should enjoy the now.

She does so by picking up on the making out where she left off... however long ago, she has no idea. Noah doesn't seem to mind, and she practically crawls into his lap as she pulls him down level with her. It's an awkward position- it was better when _she _was the one on the stool- but he keeps her steadied. She hears Santana's fake gagging and doesn't miss the fact that she polishes off her own drink and then reaches for Rachel's. Really, Rachel doesn't care. She's had way too much, and she knows it. And they probably need to be heading home soon anyway.

When she finally needs a breath, Rachel pulls back to take a drink of whatever's left on the table (beer) and notices that Santana's gone. She glances around for her, and Noah can obviously read her mind because he nods to the left. Santana's back at the bar with Rick the Creeper, and Rachel rolls her eyes. That girl will seriously do _anything _for a free drink- including socializing with creepy twenty-somethings who apparently frequent New York City bars _alone._

She doesn't really get past that thought, though, because Noah's stealing his beer back, finishing it, and pulling her right back to him to whisper all kinds of dirty stuff into her ear. She nearly always gets really, really worked up when she's drunk, so that's definitely not helping to clear her head. Of course, Noah _knows _that and is probably taking advantage of it, but she really doesn't care. Instead, she just lets him make out with her some more and forgets all about the fact that they're in public and that this is so, so inappropriate.

But then he stops suddenly and kind of pushes her back. She's shocked at first and opens her mouth to tell him so, but she sees him staring at something over her head, and curiosity gets the best of her. She turns around to follow his line of sight and sees that he's staring at Santana and Rick who are now standing at their own table. It's very obvious that Rick's trying to cash in on all his drinks because he's got an arm around her waist and is sort of blocking her in against the table. Santana looks uncomfortable but sips her drink pretty calmly as she uses her shoulder to sort of shrug him away. They go back and forth like that for like a minute until Santana obviously gets pissed off and turns all the way around, pushing his arm away from her and moving to walk away.

Then he grabs her by both arms and pulls her back, digging his fingers into her as he leans in close and whispers something that doesn't look at all nice.

Rachel doesn't really know what happens next. She finds herself shoving her way through a crowd to follow Noah who is already halfway across the bar and heading straight for Santana who is now visibly struggling to get away. Obviously none of this is good, but it gets even worse when Noah reaches the table, grabs Santana, _yanks _her away, and doesn't even spare her a second glance before he's got Rick by the collar and has him shoved roughly against the back of the table.

"Keep your fucking hands off her."

Rachel makes it over just in time to hear the low warning, and she glances at Santana who actually looks a little shaken.

"Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend?" Rick tries to pull away, but the grip on his shirt keeps him pretty firmly in place.

"Don't worry about who the fuck I am," Noah snaps back. "I told you to keep your hands off her. If you ever even _think _about touching that girl again, you better make sure you've got some fucking life insurance because I will fucking _kill _you, got it?" He tightens his grip on the shirt and the shoves Rick back into the table where two bottles waver and then shatter on the floor.

There's a small crowd looking on, and even though no one's actually thrown a punch or anything, there's a good chance security will be involved very shortly. Noah seems to know that as well because he turns around, grabs _Santana's _elbow, and pulls her toward the door. Rachel watches after them for a few seconds and then glances at Rick who looks pissed off and also embarrassed as he tugs his shirt back straight, and then she hurries outside after them.

She _expects _to see Santana screaming that she can take care of herself and that she doesn't need anyone butting into her business and a bunch of other stuff that Santana would normally say. However, apparently she's consumed enough alcohol to completely make _normal _Santana disappear, and Rachel comes outside to find her _hugging _Noah. Then when she sees Rachel, she turns around and hugs her, too. And then she gets into a cab that Noah's stopped for her and tells them she'll text when she gets home.

And then it's just the two of them out there on the street, and Rachel's kind of certain she's never been so turned on in her life.

Obviously, she knows this is an exaggeration, but she is very drunk and has spent half the night getting publicly teased with no payoff. So whatever. She really, _really _wants to have sex like _right now, _and she's just drunk enough to say it.

The cab ride back to their apartment is interesting. Mostly because Rachel's switch has flipped completely from giggly drunk to slutty drunk, and she's saying things she would _never _say in any other sort of state. Noah's still kind of pissed off, but he's not _dissuading _her or anything. Not even remotely. Rachel doesn't even really care when his phone buzzes and he tells her Santana's home because all she can think of is how _hot _he looked twenty minutes ago threatening that douchebag. And her mouth obviously has no filter because she's telling him that and a whole lot more.

(She also slips her panties off under her dress, stuffs them in Noah's pocket, and doesn't even care that there's a forty year old Middle Eastern man watching them in the rear view mirror when she climbs into his lap and proceeds to make out with him for the next four miles back to their building).

It's basically a go from there.

They almost let the random stray cat out that wanders the halls of their buildings. And Rachel's not sure _how _she's supposed to make it up all those _stairs, _so she's _really _glad when he basically picks her up and carries her to their floor. But she's impatient, and there's probably now at least six seconds of his bare ass on the security camera because she's already getting his jeans off as he unlocks their door.

The next morning, she wakes up with a predictable headache and rumbling stomach.

Noah's still passed out dead to the world beside her, but she knows he's been up at some point because there's a bottle of water and Tylenol on the nightstand. She's grateful enough and takes it willingly. She still hasn't decided whether to go to work, but since she's not supposed to be there for another four hours, she doesn't worry about it. She just drops back off to sleep and doesn't care.

She's not sure what time it is when she hears Noah grumbling at her as her ringtone plays annoyingly in the background.

"Rach..." He kicks her a little bit. "Your phone."

She doesn't want to open her eyes, nor does she want to speak to whoever is on the other end of that ringing phone. "Answer it," she whines a little, keeping her eyes clamped shut.

She hears him groan and knows he's annoyed. But then she can tell he's grabbing her purse off the ground beside the bed and is digging through it for her phone. The ringing seems to go on forever, but she knows it can really only be a matter of seconds.

"It's your dad."

She mumbles something that's not even coherent to _her _ears and then rolls over so that her back is to him. She knows he's probably pissed, but he answers anyway.

"Hello?... She's asleep... Yeah... Oh... Oh... Yeah... Hang on..." Then he's shaking her a little bit to wake her up more. "Rach?"

She's annoyed, too, and she rolls over to glare at him and tell him so. But he looks kind of serious, so she just raises her eyebrows and takes the phone he hands her.

"Hello?"

"Hey, baby."

Her dad sounds weird, and she hears it right away. "What's wrong?"

There's a little sigh, and she knows something's up. Finally, she hears him swallow and then he says, "Nanny had a heart attack this morning."

"Is she okay?"

There are a couple beats of silence and then, "No. She passed away."

Rachel looks at Noah, and he's looking back at her sympathetically. Her headache feels much worse now. She draws in a slow breath and tries really hard not to cry.

"We'll come home."

…

A/N: So I had to get this out there because we all know I'll be preoccupied with Jesse for the next little while... Anyway, thanks for the reviews, you guys are awesome!


	5. Chapter 5

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 5**

…

Being back in Lima is strange.

It's been more than a year since they were home, so it feels odd sitting in the backseat of her dad's car as they turn up and down random streets on the way to her neighborhood. She's so used to New York now that the four lane highways and calm streets just seem _weird. _She's nearly shocked when they're at a stoplight that turns green and ten cars don't immediately start honking. It's like a culture shock or something.

When they get to the house, Noah and her dad start unloading the bags from the trunk, and she and Bekah go inside because Bekah says she's had to pee for the last twenty minutes. The house is very quiet, and while it still feels like _home, _it also feels sort of weird. She can't really explain it. It's probably just because she hasn't been home in so long. Over the past year and a half, she's seen her parents three times, and each time, they've come to New York. She hasn't really had a desire or any _reason _to come back to Ohio.

But funerals always have a way of bringing people back.

She's sad about her grandmother, obviously. But she's never been one of those people who's exceptionally close to her extended family. A lot of that has to do with the fact that many, many people of her relatives have less than positive opinions about her family, and several of them make no secret of it. For the most part, her grandparents have never involved themselves in those opinions- at least not to the point where Rachel can remember. She did find out a few years ago that her grandparents on the Berry side didn't exactly approve of her conception and made that opinion known in the months before her birth. They were worried, they said, that she would be picked on and ridiculed, and to an extent, they were right. Rachel certainly suffered her share of bullying growing up, and a large part of that _did _have to do with the fact that she was the only person in her school with gay parents.

Even with all of that, though, Rachel still thinks she has the best parents in the world, and she would never trade them for anything.

So her grandparents came around, and Rachel always had an easy relationship with them. Still, she didn't see them often. She saw them on holidays and huge special occasions, but it wasn't as if she was ever at their house every week for Sunday dinner or anything. And that was fine. It kept her away from the rest of her family for the most part, and that was always a good thing. And since she's been in New York, her relationship with family outside of her parents is next to non-existent.

So she _does _wish she'd kept in touch a little more now that she realizes she's never going to see her grandmother again.

They sit around with her dad for most of the afternoon, just talking about nothing really. He asks them about the wedding plans, and Rachel admits that finding a good location in the city is pretty difficult, given the fact that she set a date just a few months out. She also admits that beyond dress shopping, there's not much else she can do until they have a venue booked. Noah is clueless about all of it, of course, so he just sits there and has nothing to input. Her dad seems to notice this, but he doesn't say anything.

By six o'clock, they're all hungry, and her dad suggests they head out for dinner since her other father's still not home from making funeral arrangements. Rachel tries to imagine how that's going because it's no secret that her father doesn't get along too well with his siblings or his stepfather. Actually, the whole family is kind of a mess and crazy, so Rachel doesn't really envy him having to attempt arrangements with those people. She knows it's his responsibility and everything, but she's sure it sucks.

Bekah's already made plans to go out with some of her old friends, and they wait for her ride before they leave for dinner. These are people she hasn't really seen since eighth grade and basically only keeps up with through Facebook, so Rachel's already expecting it to be a little odd for her. Her expectations are confirmed when two girls show up to pick her up. Rachel remembers them, but they both look different, and it's weird to see them driving now, even though obviously they're at that age. The weirdest thing, though, is seeing them standing there next to Bekah and seeing the moment of realization hit Bekah when she realizes that she no longer fits in.

Bekah has folded into New York City seamlessly and looks every bit like a normal Manhattan teenager. She has the look down easily- blunt cut bangs and a carefully pieced together outfit that's meant to look effortless. Her friends... look very much like Ohio- purposefully curled hair, jeans, North Face, and New Balance. It's actually kind of funny.

Bekah looks a little bothered by the fact that she's going to be so obviously out of place, but she puts on a smile anyway and hugs the girls like they _don't _look like they come from two different worlds. She doesn't have anything with her that's going to make her look like she belongs anymore, and anyway, Rachel knows that there's a part of her that's secretly pleased with the fact that she looks so New York fashion-forward while her friends look so... Midwestern.

She grabs her bag, and one of the girls comments, "Cute purse!"

Bekah's automatic reply is, of course, "It's vintage." That's the New York go-to response whenever you don't have the latest Chloe bag or whatever happens to be in style at that time. These girls obviously don't know that and just smile politely.

After the girls are gone, it's Rachel's dad who points out the obvious. "Well, Bekah's certainly changed."

That's very much an understatement.

Bekah has changed. A _lot. _Her personality has changed drastically, much of that having to do with puberty and normal teenage attitude. But her appearance has also changed, very much so. In the past couple of years, she's gone from being a cute kid with teeth a little bit too large for her mouth to actually really stunning. That's not even an exaggeration. She could probably model if she wanted to, but thank God she doesn't. She's just classic stunning- tall, really thin, dark hair, bright hazel eyes. She gets plenty of attention for her looks, but thankfully she doesn't seem all that interested in exploiting them.

But yes. She's certainly changed.

It's kind of fucked up. They're here for her grandmother's funeral, but they're also home for the first time in ages, and it's not entirely crazy that maybe they just want to hang out with their friends. So after dinner, Rachel kisses her dad's cheek, and they text Bekah to let her know they're going out. She's apparently at some weeknight party, so she hardly cares. And then they make their way over to see the newlyweds.

They've got a house- like a real _house. _It's rented, but still, it's a _house. _The last time they were home, Finn was living in an apartment over his parents' garage, and now he has a house with a pregnant wife.

It's just crazy.

Destiny doesn't _look _pregnant, but that's obviously because she's not at the point of showing yet. She does look happy, though, and she squeezes Rachel like they're best friends. Honestly, Destiny's not that bad. Rachel's had less than nice thoughts about her from time to time, but a lot of that has to do with the fact that A) she's dating (_married to) _her ex, and B) she's just so _wholesome. _Also, Rachel has a tendency to let Santana put certain ideas into her head and sometimes has a difficult time getting rid of them.

And Santana does _not _think highly of Destiny.

But really, she's not that bad.

Finn kind of looks happier to see them than is probably normal, but it's been a long time. And even though they are still really close and still talk all the time, it's not the same as actually _seeing _each other.

And since Noah and Finn are in a definite long term bromance, she decides to let them have some alone time.

They both try to act like they don't need it, but obviously they do, so their protests are half-hearted at best. While they get set up for some seriously needed video game time, Rachel and Destiny go to the kitchen to gossip (though they honestly don't know that many of the same people) and talk about "girl stuff." Rachel sort of hates that term, but she goes with it.

"Girl stuff" turns out to be very early plans for the baby's nursery and a list of potential names. Rachel tries to be as interested as possible because honestly, this is the first baby of one of her best friends. Still, she is a tiny bit bitter about the whole thing. The fact that not only are they having the first baby but that they're also the first _married _still bugs her. And she knows it's silly, but she's having a seriously difficult time overlooking it.

So when Destiny starts asking her opinion on Anna versus Hannah, she interrupts and starts talking about her own wedding plans.

Maybe it's a little rude, but it's pointless to think about names when they aren't even _close _to knowing the sex of the baby. Also, she doesn't want to point out that Anna was Noah's mother's name because she thinks Finn will do that. And if he doesn't, and this baby turns out to be named Anna, it's just going to be a mess. But still. Not important right now because it's probably not even a girl.

So Rachel starts spouting off a list of wedding plans that she's had in her head for years. Hypothetical ideas for flowers and centerpieces and that kind of thing. And when Destiny asks the same question everyone asks, "Where are you having it?" Rachel once again, has to admit that she has no idea.

"I've got several locations in mind," she quickly recovers. "It's just a matter of what's available." _Nothing. _"New York's so big, you know. There are lots of places we could do it."

Destiny's sipping on some kind of tea that's apparently supposed to be good for prenatal nutrition. She just smiles and nods. "Yeah, that's cool. Ours was just small, so we didn't have to worry about all that."

Rachel forces a smile. "Yeah. It's just more difficult in the city."

"I kind of thought you might do it here." Destiny just sort of shrugs. "Since, you know, your family's here and everything."

"Most of our friends are in New York," she answers back immediately. She refuses to even entertain the thought of a Lima, Ohio wedding. Just... no.

"I hope we'll be able to go." Destiny seems like she's just randomly talking, but Rachel's suddenly interested in every word. "Afford it, I mean."

"You have to go," she says instantly. "Finn's like... best man or something." They honestly haven't talked about that, but it's pretty much a given.

Destiny nods. "We'll definitely try. It's just with the baby and everything, we need to save as much as we can. But we'll definitely try."

Rachel doesn't want to hear that they'll _try. _They _have _to be there. _Finn _has to be there. Finn and Santana. That's who they _need. _There can't be any _trying._

She ends up crying about that night in bed.

It's probably PMS. Or maybe she's just emotional because her grandmother's dead and she's trying to plan a wedding with not enough time and also that she's basically failing at _life. _But whatever, she's crying in her pillow at two in the morning and basically praying that no one can hear her.

It's a stupid prayer, of course, because while her parents might be downstairs and Bekah might be down the hall in the guest room, Noah's actually right beside her and can obviously hear her. She tries to be as quiet as possible because there's a good chance that he might not wake up. He's a heavy sleeper, and it's been kind of a long day with the traveling and the late night at "the Hudsons." (Just that thought makes her cry even harder).

"Why are you crying?"

Noah's voice is tired, and she feels bad for waking him up, so she shoves her face into her pillow and lies. "I'm not."

"Rachel..." She feels his hand on the back of her neck, and he somehow manages to turn her head without even really touching it. She blinks at him, and he stares back at her sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to get married here!" She blurts it out before she can stop herself, and that just makes all of her tears start up all over again.

It's possible that Noah thinks she's crazy. He's certainly made mention of it before. It's also possible that he thinks he might still be dreaming because he gives her the most patented WTF face she's ever seen, and if she wasn't so upset, she might laugh.

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't want to get _married _here," she repeats. "In Lima! I just... It's _gross!"_

He actually laughs at her, and even _she _doesn't know why the only adjective she could come up with is _gross. _But apparently he sees that she's very serious, so he stops laughing and just says, "Nobody said we were getting married here."

"But everything in New York is _taken! _And _Finn!"_

One eyebrow goes up, and she understands why. Before she can elaborate, though, he says, "Finn _what?"_

"Destiny said they might not be able to come to New York. And he has to be there!"

"He said he'd be best man."

She doesn't know _when _that conversation took place because they haven't discussed the wedding party, and she certainly hasn't asked anyone. Yes, it's kind of understood, but she thinks he should _tell _her when he secures a best man. That's just common decency. But still.

"But Destiny said they might not have the money because they have to save for the baby. And Finn has to be at the wedding. What if they can't come to New York?"

"Rach, calm down." He's still got a hand on the side of her neck, and he runs his thumb right behind her ear. "I'm sure they can swing it. And if they can't... We can pay for it. And say it's like... wedding party benefits or something. It'll be fine."

"But I can't even find us a _location!"_

"You need to go to sleep," he says seriously. "Just calm down. We can talk about it later. It's gonna be fine."

He definitely doesn't know what he's talking about.

Her grandmother's funeral is sad.

Obviously. It's a funeral, and it's her _grandmother. _It's crowded with tons of people Rachel's never seen before, and it's very, _very _Baptist. That's one of the first things Noah mumbles to her when they show up to the funeral home. They have to do the whole receiving friends thing for a couple of hours before the actual funeral starts, so there's a lot of standing around and shaking hands and hugging people she's never seen before. She hears about twelve-thousand different people tell her that her grandmother's gone to be with Jesus, and she just smiles politely because it's the right thing to do. So Noah said he's never heard so much "Jesus-talk" in his life, and Bekah says, "We're like the only white people here."

But when Rachel glares at both of them, they shut up.

The funeral, though, is basically one long sermon on how important being a Christian is and how it's the only way to eternal life and how lucky her grandmother was to be a woman of God and know Jesus and how she's now resting in his kingdom. And Rachel has honestly never felt more Jewish in her entire life. It's slightly uncomfortable, but she tries not to focus on it and spends most of the time fighting back tears that she hasn't yet let fall.

After it's over, though, they all go back to her aunt's house, and there's literally enough food to feed an army. Rachel's seriously never seen so much food in her entire life, but she's not surprised because people like to cook whenever there's a death or a tragedy. She remembers vividly throwing out nine whole uneaten casseroles after Mrs. Puckerman's death. That was the last funeral she attended, and she wonders if it's terrible that she felt worse then than she does now.

She finds her father in the kitchen talking to a man she doesn't recognize. He's holding everything together pretty well, but it's clear that he's struggling a little. He's not an overly emotional man, but she can tell that he's upset. It makes her sad, so she goes over and hugs him around the waist, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he pats her back.

"This is my daughter," he explains, and she turns around to introduce herself. "Rachel, this is Ken. He works with your grandfather."

It's the first time she's ever heard her father reference Hugh as her "grandfather." Her actual grandfather died when Rachel was three, and she really doesn't remember him. Hugh married her grandmother when Rachel was twelve, but he's never really played the role of grandfather, and he and her parents don't exactly have the most functioning relationship.

Still, Rachel shakes hands with Ken and enjoys the way her dad's arms feel around her waist. She doesn't care if she's twenty-three years old. Sometimes she just likes being wrapped up in her parents' arms, and this is one of those times. It's especially comforting when she gets the requisite strange look after being introduced as her father's daughter when they clearly do not resemble each other in the least.

After Ken's gone, her dad lets out a breath and shakes his head. "I'm so ready for this shit to be over."

"Vera told me to send her an invitation to the wedding." Rachel raises her eyebrows and watches her dad's expression.

Her dad's youngest sister has never really been an active part of Rachel's life, but there was a huge falling out awhile ago that caused her to completely separate from the entire family. She literally hasn't spoken to anyone in ten years, showed back up specifically for her mom's funeral, and is now apparently interested in attending Rachel's wedding. It's crazy.

"You can send her an invitation. She won't come, but she might send a gift." She laughs at the smile her dad gives her, and then she hugs him again. She doesn't miss being home, but she misses her parents _so _badly sometimes.

At one point during the afternoon, she realizes that Bekah is extremely wrapped up in conversation with one of her cousins, but she doesn't have time to process that because she gets pulled into a conversation with another cousin- one of the few she can actually tolerate. Megan's just a year older than her, and they actually spent some time together as friends growing up. But living in Cincinnati, Megan wasn't around all that much, so they never saw each other a ton or anything. Still, they've always gotten along, which is more than Rachel can say for most of her family.

"So," Megan says, offering Rachel a glass of iced tea from the huge pitcher set up in the den. "You did pretty damn well. How'd you manage to land that?" Rachel follows her eyes across the room to where Noah and her parents are talking to yet another person she doesn't recognize in the least.

She just laughs a little and shrugs. "It's not like a huge accomplishment or anything. I mean, we got our diapers changed together. It just happened." It's funny because she doesn't even consider herself to have 'landed' anything. When she thinks of people 'landing' good catches, she always imagines people running into each other randomly at a bar or something and falling in love immediately because of some automatic spark or something- not two people who have grown up together and known each other their whole lives.

"Well, you're lucky." Megan keeps her eyes fixed on him, and it occurs to Rachel that her cousin is quite obviously checking out her fiance. She doesn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. "He's hot."

Rachel just shrugs because while yes, _obviously _he's attractive, she doesn't like people assuming that's his only favorable trait. Or that she would choose to be with him solely based on his looks. She thinks it's degrading to them both.

"He's more than that," she mumbles, sipping on the tea and trying not to feel awkward. "He's the best person I know."

Megan just stares at her for a few seconds and then laughs. When Rachel asks what's so funny, she just shakes her head. "That's like ridiculously cute."

It's not _cute. _It's just the truth.

"How long have you been together?"

"Since high school. We've been engaged for awhile."

"Wait. Since _high school? _What, is he like the only guy you've ever been with?"

This is awkward. Rachel likes Megan just fine, but they're not exactly close. They've certainly _never _had a conversation like this before, but, on the other hand, they're adults now. So maybe it shouldn't be as weird as it feels.

"No," she says quietly. "Well, since I was sixteen, yeah. But I had a boyfriend before that."

"And then what? You guys ran off to New York and just lived happily ever after?"

And Rachel smiles, almost laughing at the idea. "No. Not exactly." Then she gives Megan the heavily-abridged version of the story. She thinks it proves that Noah's much more than just a pretty face.

By the end, Megan seems to agree.

The next morning, Bekah asks if she can go shopping with her friends, since it's Saturday and their last day in Lima. Rachel offers to drop her off at the mall, and she barely gets the car started before Bekah's talking her ear off.

"Okay, so here's a secret," she says quickly. "I made out with your cousin last night. Don't judge me."

Rachel almost hits the mailbox as she backs down the driveway. She's not used to driving anymore, and she's certainly not used to hearing things like that.

"You do know he's eighteen, right?" she asks, turning her head and looking expectantly at Bekah when she finally gets the car straightened onto the street.

"And I'll be sixteen in two weeks. _That's _not the problem."

"Then what _is _the problem?" Rachel feels like she needs to lay down some kind of lecture right here, but she's sort of at a loss.

"It kind of felt like... incest or something. I don't know. It was weird because I just kept thinking about how he's your _cousin."_

Rachel ignores that and shakes her head. "When exactly did you find time to make out with him at his grandmother's funeral?"

"It wasn't at the _funeral." _Bekah rolls her eyes. "It was later obviously. When we were at his house. We went up to his room to hang out, and it just kind of happened."

There needs to be a lesson about how entirely inappropriate the entire thing is. Not just the fact that it's her _cousin, _but also the fact that he should have been mourning his grandmother, not trying to pick up random girls. And Bekah should know better, too.

"You shouldn't be alone with a boy in his room anyway," Rachel kind of snaps. "Period. And you _know _that."

And then there's another eye roll. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. I'm sure _you _never did that. Oh, wait. Except I know for a fact that you totally did."

Rachel has a feeling that both her own and Noah's teenage years will be thrown in their faces a lot over the next few years- even more than they already have been. Still, she has to exercise _some _kind of control over the situation because she's an adult, and that's what she's _supposed _to do.

"This isn't about me," she says firmly, flexing her fingers on the steering wheel and trying to remember why she ever liked driving. "_You _know better. Plus, you don't even know Chris. You literally just met him yesterday. At his grandmother's funeral."

"Oh, my god, we didn't get engaged or some shit- I _kissed _him. It wasn't that big of a deal, forget about it."

Rachel doesn't say anything more. She just worries, mostly because Bekah _is _so pretty. She gets a lot of male attention, and it could potentially turn out very badly. _Hopefully _she's smart enough not to let that happen. But thinking about it makes Rachel nervous.

When she gets back home from dropping Bekah off, she finds Noah on the back deck with her parents. They're apparently grilling out for lunch, and they all look up when she slides open the back door and joins them. It's not exactly warm outside- not cold by any means, but it's not warm, either. She's got a jacket on and pulls it tighter around her as she sits down beside Noah and shakes her head to the offered bottle of beer. It's barely noon, and all three of them are drinking- she thinks that's pushing it.

She listens in on some small talk, and then the conversation turns to baseball. Rachel rolls her eyes and doesn't even _pretend _to be interested. It's like some sort of boys' club or something, and she imagines this must be exactly how Noah feels every single day being stuck with her and Bekah, so she lets them have their moment. That doesn't mean she has to participate.

In all honesty, she's _very _glad that Noah gets along so well with her dads.

They helped him a lot after his mom died, and he basically still thanks them for it every chance he gets, even though he's been told numerous times and for _years _that no thanks is necessary. But he respects them a lot, and they really do care about him. She's glad, of course, because they were less than enthusiastic about him when she first started dating him. That was forever ago, though, and a lot's changed since then. Now they treat him basically like he's their own kid, and Rachel loves it.

They bring the food inside to eat because it's kind of chilly, and then they sit down at the kitchen table to eat. Rachel finally takes a beer and uses it to wash down the roasted vegetables her dad made specifically for her. She's never really liked beer, but there's something about it that makes it perfect for grilled out food.

"So where are you on wedding plans?" Her dad asks it after a few minutes, and Rachel feels the familiar tug of dread when the subject's brought up.

"Everywhere's already booked for that day," she says quietly. "We're still looking."

"You know, you could just get married here." It's the second time in a few days that someone's suggested it, and it sounds no more appealing now than it did then.

She uses the same excuse of, "Our friends are in New York." She adds, "And that's where we live," needlessly because everyone present is very well aware of that fact.

"Okay."

She can tell by the look on her father's face that he's holding something back, and she _hates _when he does that, so she presses. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"No, obviously something is. I can tell."

"I just..." He sighs a little bit. "Your whole life, I just always imagined you getting married at our temple. I... I don't know. I just always did."

Rachel frowns, feeling guilted by her father's little trip down memory lane. "I don't want to get married here. I want to get married in New York. That's what _I've _always imagined."

That part is not entirely true. When she was a little girl, she, too, always imagined walking down the aisle in her temple. Way before she ever had a face on the groom, she pictured her wedding and saw herself there. Even when she got a little bit older and started focusing more on the man than the location, most of her wedding fantasies still took place at her synagogue. It wasn't until several years ago that she switched and started seeing herself in various NYC locations.

Still, it's what she wants.

"Well, whatever you decide, I'm sure it'll be beautiful. We should just probably hurry up." That's her father trying to placate her after the fact that he just tried to guilt her into having a Lima wedding. She almost calls him on it, but then Noah speaks up for the first time all meal.

"Rach." She turns her head and looks at him. Maybe she has ESP or something because she can already tell exactly what he's going to say, and she tightens her grip on the beer bottle to save herself from throwing it at his head. "Maybe we should think about it," he says carefully because he _knows _that she's not going to take well to his suggestion. "It might not be so bad..."

She knows exactly what he's referring to when he says they should think about it, and she cannot _believe _that he isn't supporting her on this. This is their _wedding. _It's literally the most important day of their entire lives, and he wants her to do it in _Lima? _

"It's _Lima," _she spits nastily. "You hate this place. Why the _hell _would you want to have our wedding here?"

"Because it's just a wedding." Her eyes must double in size because she hears one of her dad's let out a low whistle, and Noah looks like maybe he's just realized what he's said a second too late. "I just mean, like..." Clearly he has no idea what he _just means. _"Where we get married doesn't matter. As long as you're there, I'm good."

She stares at him. She doesn't have the naturally swooned look on her face that he probably expects because she doesn't exactly believe a single word that's coming out of his mouth. Well, not that she doesn't _believe _it necessarily, but it sounds so obviously stated as a way to rescue himself from the first mistake of _it's just a wedding. _She glances over her shoulder because part of her suspects that her dad made him a flash card or something. She doesn't find any evidence of that, so she just turns back to Noah and purses her lips.

"I'm serious." Obviously he knows that she's suspicious of his sudden sappiness. "I mean, we can still make it awesome, right? And we can have a party or something in New York, too. But if we do the wedding here, it'll be a ton cheaper and besides like Finn and stuff, I mean, my nana probably can't go to New York, either. Maybe it just makes more sense?"

He says the last part like a question, and she knows it's because he's not sure how she'll react. Truthfully, she wants to react very badly. She wants to throw a tantrum and state firmly that she under no circumstances wants to get married in this stupid little hick town. But then she sees the look on his face and knows he's probably right.

So she sighs.

"Fine," she says quietly, trying really hard to keep the full level of disappointment out of her voice. She can't act like a spoiled child over this. Logically, she knows it probably _does _make the most sense. Not only is it cheaper, it's also _available, _which is basically a huge deal at the moment.

Plus, it might be kind of nice to get married in _their _temple. They grew up there, maybe sealing the deal there makes sense, too.

"It'll still be awesome," he promises, and she nods reluctantly and then looks at her parents who both smile in agreement. Maybe they're right. "Plus, think of how happy we'll make all those old women at temple and shit."

Everyone laughs at that because _that _part is _definitely _true.

The talking continues around her. She hears her father saying he'll make sure it's open for that day, and she hears other random pieces of early plans. It's the first time anyone's ever really talked about the wedding in detail, and she knows she should be more eager to be involved. But she can't help the lump in her throat as she realizes that all her dreams of a fairy tale New York City wedding are basically shot to hell now.

She tells herself not to harp on it, but she can't shake the feeling that she's going to be horribly disappointed and resentful. She makes up her mind not to be, but she has a feeling that it's easier said than done.

…

A/N: Thanks for reading! Jesse didn't delay the update too terribly...


	6. Chapter 6

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 6**

...

Rachel really, _really _hates her job some days.

Like today, for example. She just really hates it. She knows that logically she should be thankful she even has a job. She also knows that she needs to be _exceptionally _thankful for a job that allows her to sing on a daily basis and entertain people, since that's what she loves to do. But it just _sucks. _She hates serving stacks of chocolate chip pancakes and overhearing the people in her section talk about shows they've just seen and how amazing all of the performers were because it makes her feel _useless. _Why isn't _she _amazing enough to be in those shows?

She's only fit to pour coffee, and some days it makes her physically ill.

She manages to be the first one cut because she claims that her stomach is really upset. It _does _hurt, but it's more just the recurring dull ache she's grown used to and not some traditional type of stomach problem. Still, as soon as the afternoon rush is over, her manager says she can go home. So she finishes up all of her side-work and refills all the sugar caddies in her station, and then she's out the door.

She's still in her work uniform, but no one really pays her a second glance as she makes her way to the subway station and purposely does not look at any of the marquees that seem to be taunting her from every direction. Maybe she needs a new job that's not right smack in the middle of everything she wants and can't have. Maybe she's just showering herself with unnecessary reminders. Maybe she's a masochist. That's got to be it.

She stops at a bakery a few blocks from the apartment and picks up Bekah's birthday cake. She's sixteen and most likely has plans with her friends for later, but she still deserves a cake. They offered her a party, partly to make up for the fact that she never got her Bat Mitzvah, but she said she didn't want one. So cake it is. And it looks gorgeous and smells delicious- it's Bekah's favorite, with real chunks of strawberry and made from scratch cream cheese icing. While she's at the bakery, she goes ahead and puts in an order for Noah's cake, which she'll need _next _weekend. Their birthdays are less than a week apart, but she can't do them together because they apparently _hate _that and have hated it their whole lives or something. She thinks it's a little bit ridiculous and would have loved to have a brother or a sister to celebrate a birthday with. But they both tell her that she definitely would _not._

Noah's home when she gets there, and she opens the bakery box to show off the cake. He asks if they can cut into it, and she smacks the side of his head and rolls her eyes before she goes into the kitchen and sets it on the counter.

"Baby, come here," he calls the second she's out of sight. She sighs because it's so very like him to just yell into the next room when he could have said whatever he needed to say thirty seconds before when she was actually face to face with him.

"What?" She goes back into the living room and unties her apron so that she can add it to the laundry.

"I need some help." He's sitting on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table with his guitar on his lap and a notebook spread open on the table in front of him. She knows he's working on some new music, but she can tell by the heavily edited and scratched out draft on his notebook that it's not coming along too well. She sits down on her knees beside him and takes the paper he hands her. "Sing that."

She looks down and sees an actual clean edit of what seems to be maybe half a verse of a new song. Then she looks back up at him, and he's got his head tilted expectantly.

"Just sing it," he tells her, so she sighs and then looks over the notes for a couple of seconds before doing as she's asked and singing. There are really just a few lines, but when she's finished, he's staring at her with a little half-smile that kind of makes her blush.

"What?" she asks, looking back down at the music to see if she's made some mistake or something.

"Nothing. You're just hot."

She looks down at her poodle skirt and then back up with raised eyebrows. "Really?" she says disbelievingly, rolling her eyes for good measure.

And Noah, of course, just reaches over and undoes the top three buttons of her restaurant-issued black shirt. "Yeah. Very."

She just giggles and pushes his hand away when he tries to feel her up. "Stop it," she says seriously. "This uniform is supposed to be wholesome, and you're corrupting it."

"I can think of plenty of non-wholesome things to do with that uniform."

And she giggles again and shakes her head. "Why did you need me to sing that?"

"Because it sounds way off with the music. Here, sing it again." She does, and this time he plays along with her. He's right, though, something sounds off. "I don't know how to fix it."

Rachel doesn't, either, because while she might be able to put down some lyrics (very rarely), she absolutely sucks at any kind of actual composition. She can sight read better than anyone she knows, but she cannot do her own.

"You should write me a song," she says breezily, changing the subject and setting the music back down with the rest of the drafts. "I think I deserve that."

"Every song I write is for you."

She laughs because he's so obviously full of crap. "Really?" He just nods, a determined look on his face that she knows is hiding back his own smirk. "So this," she picks back up the song she just sang, "is about me?" She reads the lyrics in a serious voice. "_Suffocation, excavation. Digging through remains, nothing left but pain. Smothering me for all eternity. _That's about me?"

And the smile cracks through as he shrugs. "I said _for _you, not _about _you." She just rolls her eyes, and he keeps going. "It's about all the suffering I had to go through, digging through all the bad shit until I found the good." He thumps her chin on the word _good, _and she laughs.

"You are so full of crap."

And then he just shrugs. "Look, sometimes I just need shit that rhymes."

And then both laugh because it's so true. Sometimes (_most_ times) his music is gorgeous. There are other times, though, when it's more than obvious that he was just making lyrics up to fit whatever tune he found in his head.

"This isn't your greatest work," she says, dropping the music back onto the table. "Just so you know."

And he shrugs again, setting his guitar to the side and moving up to his knees so that he's slightly taller than her. "So inspire me."

"How?" She bites down on a smile when he starts pushing her skirt up around her knees.

"I dunno. Be creative." Both of his hands are on her thighs, slowly massaging the skin there as he keeps complete eye contact with her.

"If you think I'm going to let you corrupt this uniform, you are sadly mistaken."

"Sooo..." he raises an eyebrow, "take it off."

Of _course _that's his solution. She's pretty sure that he thinks any problem or issue in life can be solved by just getting naked. It's part of his charm.

Too bad he doesn't have better timing.

They both hear a key in the door at the same time and scoot a little further apart. Rachel stands up just as Bekah gets the door unlocked and pushes it open. "Happy birthday!" she says immediately, more than glad that Noah didn't actually have time to get her clothes off.

Bekah smiles and seems happy for once. Pria's with her, and they both drop their bags on the sofa and kick their shoes off. Rachel lets it slide and doesn't say anything besides asking how their day was.

"It was okay," Bekah says shrugging. "I'm so freaking glad it's Friday, though."

Rachel agrees, even though Fridays basically mean nothing when you have to work every weekend. Then she excuses herself to actually go change into some real clothes because she's had about enough of the 50s for one day, and knowing she'll have to put it back on in the morning is already making her sick. When she gets back to the living room, though, Noah's tightening the strings on his guitar, and Pria is ignoring every word out of Bekah's mouth because she's staring at him.

Rachel wonders if he's oblivious or if he knows and thinks it's funny.

She's almost one-hundred percent certain that it's the second one.

"Cake?" she asks brightly, smiling pointedly at Bekah because if she looks at Pria, she might smack her and if she looks at Noah, she might smack him, too. He probably thinks this whole thing is hilarious. Rachel, on the other hand, finds it extremely annoying.

"Yay, strawberry swirl!" Bekah does a little happy clap as she looks into the box after Rachel's made them all go into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I hope it tastes as good as it looks." Rachel reaches into the cabinet over the sink and passes them some plates. "Annnd..." She hurries to her bedroom and returns with a bright orange gift bag. "Happy birthday."

Bekah sets her plate down on the counter and grabs the present, pulling the tissue paper out and handing it to Pria before she pulls out the brand new Chanel bag she's been coveting for weeks now. The squeal she lets out is basically ear-piercing, but then she throws her arms around Rachel's neck happily.

"Oh, my god, thank you!"

Rachel laughs and hugs her back. "I didn't tell him how much it cost, so lie if he asks," she whispers quickly right into Bekah's ear, and she gets a giggle and a nod in reply before Bekah lets go to hug Noah as well.

And it's true that she purposely omitted the final price when she told Noah what she'd bought his sister. It's not _lying _exactly, but he basically flat out said there was no way they needed to spend that much money when she first suggested it. But really, it's her sixteenth birthday. That's a big deal. And they live in New York, so it's not like she's going to get a car or anything. A nice purse isn't that much of a splurge. So Rachel told him she knew where to find a good sale on one, and when that turned out to not be so true... she just didn't mention it again.

The girls take their cake and run off to Bekah's room to get dressed for wherever they're going tonight. Noah's leaning against the counter eating his own piece, and he offers her a forkful even though there are probably about a hundred different ingredients in that cake that she doesn't eat. She shakes her head, and he just shrugs.

"I've written lots of songs about you," he says out of nowhere. "And you know every one of them."

She smiles and does her own shrugging. It's the truth, though. She always knows when songs are about her, and she won't even pretend like she doesn't love it. Music is and always has been a hugely crucial part of her existence, so having original songs written about her... Well, she's pretty helpless against it.

He has to leave for the library because he's supposed to be meeting a study group. Rachel's really not sure _why _they scheduled a session for Friday night, but they do stupid things a lot when it comes to their schedules. He promises to make good on his earlier thwarted efforts and tells her to be ready. She rolls her eyes because that's how he talks, but he's probably completely serious. She never complains about his school schedule, though. She's just happy that he's finally able to get the education he briefly started when they were eighteen. Sure, City isn't Temple, New York's not Philadelphia, and a two bedroom apartment with a fiance and a little sister isn't exactly the dorm life he probably dreamed about. But at least he can finally do it. Plus, maybe those years of break were a blessing in disguise because when they were eighteen, he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life or what he wanted to major in. Now he at least has direction, and he's pretty focused on school and is actually pulling very decent grades.

Bekah and Pria come back into the living room just a few seconds after Noah leaves. They've obviously been in Rachel's room because Bekah's got a black dress Rachel bought a few months ago for an audition. She asks if she can wear it, and Rachel hesitates.

"It's probably not long enough."

It's short enough on Rachel, but Bekah's got an easy five inches on her. While it might fit everywhere else, it's barely going to cover her ass, and Rachel's really not sure that's the look she should be going for on her sixteenth birthday.

"It's not too short," Bekah argues. "I promise. I just don't have anything to wear."

This is a lie. Obviously. Because Bekah has plenty to wear. Her closet is full of dresses and jeans and everything else, but Rachel decides not to point that out. She gives in _only _because it's Bekah's birthday and makes her swear to be careful with the dress because it certainly wasn't on clearance.

Rachel spends most of the night cleaning. The apartment is a wreck, and there are at least three days worth of dishes in the sink. She wants to refuse to help on principle, but she can't. She wants to let them wallow in their filth and teach them a lesson, but she can't stand the thought of the dishes staying in the sink any longer. The roaches and rats will probably start showing up any day now, and she just can't risk it. Keeping bugs away is hard enough in this city, and not having any control of her neighbors' cleaning habits just adds to the concern. She's not going to throw in even more risk by leaving dirty dishes to pile in the sink.

She's already in bed by the time Noah gets home, and even though he was all for getting her naked before he left, he seems completely exhausted by the time he gets home. He doesn't even take a shower or anything. He barely even gets his clothes off before he's passing out in bed beside her. She wants to ask him how the studying went, but it's a lost cause, so she just goes back to her book and tries not to pay attention to the fact that she can hear Bekah and what seems to be at least four or five other people stumbling into the apartment at 2 AM. They are all loud and far too happy, so Rachel naturally assumes they're drunk. She has the urge to go lecture them, but she knows perfectly well that it would only end in a fight. Instead, she texts Bekah and tells her to keep it down, and even though Bekah knows she's probably in for it in the morning, Rachel hears her hissing at her friends to be quiet.

She wants to wake Noah up and alert him to the fact that their living room is currently filled with a bunch of intoxicated teenagers, but he probably wouldn't care, and even if he did, he wouldn't do anything about it. And really, Rachel's not going to go in there and embarrass Bekah, even if she _does _find it highly inappropriate and disrespectful.

She gets a little bit _more _pissed the next morning when she wakes up and finds three teenage girls passed out on the living room floor, two more passed out on Bekah's floor, and Bekah herself asleep in her bed with some random boy Rachel's never seen before half falling off the end.

So, really, she doesn't worry too much about embarrassing her when she grabs her arm and literally yanks her out of bed.

"What... are you doing?" Bekah mumbles sleepily when she's forced awake and into an unsteady standing position. She's clearly disoriented, and Rachel has to hold onto her arm to keep her from falling right over, but that doesn't mean she's not still angry.

"What are _you _doing?" she counters, gesturing at the bed and then at the floor where Bekah's guests are still unconscious.

Bekah looks, and then she just shakes her head. "The bus had already stopped..." She shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Oh, really? They all ride the same bus? And the girls in the living room? They're on that bus, too?"

Bekah wakes up a little and rolls her eyes. "It's not a big deal," she says, keeping her voice low since she's obviously afraid someone's going to wake up and witness this. "Everyone was just... drunk," she admits. "It was easier to get back here."

"You are _sixteen _years old."

And there's another roll of the eyes. "Just stop it. Nothing happened. We're all fine. I'll make them leave, okay?"

Rachel wants to keep going with the lecture, but she refrains. She even goes back to her room, trusting that Bekah will actually wake everyone up and make them leave. She doesn't want to be responsible for a bunch of drunk or hungover teenagers, and the sooner they are out of her house, the better.

She's not surprised at _all _when she wakes Noah up to tell him, and he tells her it's not a big deal. God, those two are too much alike.

Three days later, she's wishing _she _was drunk as she stands in the middle of a bridal shop looking through rack after rack of dresses that don't appeal to her in the least.

She's less than two months away from her wedding, and she has absolutely _nothing _in stone except the date and the venue. She found a couple of bridesmaid dresses online that she thinks are gorgeous, but she knows that getting Santana _and _Bekah to agree on something is basically going to be hell. That's why she hasn't even approached it yet. She wants to get her own dress done first, and then she will go into battle with those two. The problem, of course, is that she can't find _anything._

The magic that came with the first few dresses has long-since faded. Now everything she looks at pretty much runs together, and she rarely sees anything that even catches her eye. When she _does _see something interesting, she always hates it when she tries it on. She feels like she's been to every damn dress shop in this city, and short of going to Kleinfeld (which she has neither the money nor the patience for), she's basically running out of options.

And when she tries on the fifth dress of the afternoon and hates it, she wants to burst into tears.

She knows she's not fat. She _knows _that. So she doesn't understand why the hell she looks like a gigantic cow in all of these dresses. None of them flatter her. She hates them all. She thinks she may as well just wrap herself up in a sheet to walk down the aisle because it would make her look just as nice.

"You know, if you don't pick something soon, you're not going to have time for altering." The bridal consultant, some stone-faced, red-head named Lonnie, just kind of offers her a fake smile as she returns the latest dress to its hanger. Rachel knows she's just being passive-aggressive and that the real meaning behind that statement is _buy something or get out, you're wasting my time._

So Rachel gets out.

She pours herself a huge glass of wine when she gets home and starts digging through the mail that she picked up on her way in. She feels depressed and fat and basically like a total failure. The mountain of bills and junk mail don't really do anything at all to cheer her up, but the newest issue of _Spin _is in, so she takes it to the living room and lays down on the couch to read.

Her phone rings six minutes later.

By the time Noah gets home at five, she's practically dying from excitement. She literally feels like she might vomit and burst into tears and break into hysterical laughter all at the same time. She has no idea what she's really feeling, just that she's feeling _everything. _And she really can't believe any of it's real.

She practically tackles him the second he gets the door open. She runs straight up to him and jumps into his arms, trusting completely that he'll catch her when she wraps both legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"I got a part!" she shrieks, not giving his confusion a chance to even settle in and express itself.

The non-equity national tour of _The Sound of Music. _It's not the highest that she could aim, but it's a real part. A real _paying _part. And she's one of the leads! She's not really sure she could logically ask for much more. And even if it's a tour, it will definitely get her foot in the door, and she finally gets to put her degree to use and do something she _wants _to do.

There are a million thoughts running through her head as she relays the story. She's picturing herself turning in her apron at work and never having to pour another cup of coffee for the rest of her life. In her mind, she sees this as just the beginning. She'll get noticed on this tour, and by the time it's over, she'll have parts in New York just rolling in. She's never going to have to call herself a struggling actress again.

Yes, she knows all of that is extremely idealistic, but she really doesn't give a shit.

The other stuff is running through her mind, too- the fact that she's going to be away from home for months. The fact that she's going to spend all those months alternating between sleeping on a bus and sharing rooms with her castmates at Best Westerns across the country. But it'll be worth it. It will be. She has to start somewhere, and this is it.

"So, I mean, I have to play a sixteen year old, but it's a great role, and I'm finally going to be able to _do _something!" She's practically bubbling over with happiness and excitement. The neighbors are probably pissed that she spent a good three minutes just squealing, but she doesn't care.

Noah says some stuff about her looking way too Jewish to make out with a Nazi, and she's really too impressed that he even _knows _that to make any kind of snide comeback.

There is literally _nothing _that could make her unhappy at the moment.

The next morning, a package arrives at just after nine. Rachel hurries downstairs to get it. It's a fairly thick manilla envelope, and she knows the script and the schedule are inside. She actually runs up the stairs, opening it as she goes. She's so excited she can't even stand it. When she's back in her kitchen, she's pulling out a copy of the script and staring at it like it's the most beautiful thing in the world. Because right now, it pretty much _is. _

She sets it down carefully, determined to have it memorized by the first read-through. There are several pieces of sheet music stuffed into the envelope as well, and she takes them all out and glances through them before laying them on top of the script. The tour schedule is next, all of the dates outlined in blue and the cities in red. She glances over it, noting some of the places that look most exciting. And then she gets to the rehearsal schedule. There are five weeks of rehearsals, starting May 19th and running through the last week in June.

It hits her all at once, and she instantly feels sick.

The tour or the wedding. She can't have them both.

...

A/N: Sorry for the delay... Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 7**

…

Rachel decided a very long time ago to ignore every word that comes out of Santana Lopez's mouth.

Or at least that's what she tells herself. It's easier said than done, of course, and matters aren't exactly helped when Rachel consistently asks for her opinion. She's not really sure why she always seeks her out, but it's been a problem for awhile now. So two glasses of sangria and a naturally blabby tongue kind of have her spilling the entire thing.

"He's going to be so fucking pissed."

Santana's less tipsy but certainly no less blunt. It's both her best and her worst trait. She pops a tortilla chip into her mouth and shakes her head when Rachel protests.

"He loves me. He'll understand."

"Well, like what are you gonna say? _Sorry I can't marry you because I have to do this play? _Yeah, he's gonna be _pissed."_

"I'm still _marrying _him. Jesus, Santana."

"Don't get pissed at me," she answers back defensively. "I'm just telling you how it sounds. And how he's going to react."

"That's not how he's going to react," Rachel snaps. "He's not you. He's not an asshole."

It occurs to her that she's just called her best friend an asshole, but she really doesn't care. She just takes an extra long drink from her glass and tries not to crush it when Santana snorts and rolls her eyes. "Oh. Okay."

"Don't call him an asshole!"

"You just called _me _an asshole."

"Well, you're being a bitch."

Santana looks like she knows she should be offended, but she just snorts and grabs the last of Rachel's drink away. She's not drunk, not even close. She's just tipsy enough to start talking irrationally, and apparently that is amusing for some reason.

"Look, baby." Santana's using her placating voice, and it's beyond annoying. "You just have to make a decision, okay? Who's more important to you? Liesl von Trapp or Noah Puckerman?"

"Oh, fuck off."

She goes home after that and steals a beer from the refrigerator once she gets to her own kitchen. She doesn't feel nearly drunk enough, and that's no good. She definitely needs more alcohol in her to get through this. It's really not that big of a deal. She knows it's not. She's been telling herself for two days now that _it's not that big of a deal. _

He already knows about the show. He's even already _asked _if it's going to interfere with the wedding. Rachel has no idea why she didn't just come clean right then, but she _lied _for some reason. Before she could even stop herself, she was just lying. She just told him that it didn't overlap and that it was fine, and now she has absolutely no idea why she did that. But she can't go back and admit to lying. She's going to have to pretend like she's just been made aware of this fact- she definitely can't confess that she's known for two whole days now.

What he doesn't know can't hurt him.

Or can't hurt her at least.

She tries to watch some show on Discovery about gang life in California, but she can't really focus on anything besides the fact that Noah should have been home half an hour ago and he's probably somewhere with Santana right this second, hearing about how she's been lying and has no plans to actually marry him in June. She wouldn't put it past Santana to hijack him on his way home and spill everything. Or really, it _would _surprise her because Santana wouldn't actually do that. But whatever. It's easier to pretend that she might, easier to be bitter and keep her anger focused elsewhere. Easier than admitting that she's really only mad at herself and no one else.

He finally shows up, but he looks normal and not at all like he's just been in some unnamed bar with Santana getting the lowdown on his own relationship. He sees her on the sofa and just smiles at her before going to the kitchen and getting his own beer. Then he comes back and kicks his shoes off under the coffee table. Under normal circumstances, she would tell him to take them to the bedroom, but she's not really in the position to be lecturing right now.

"I saw the craziest sax player in the subway. I just spent like an hour straight listening to him." He twists the cap off his bottle and tosses it onto the coffee table. She doesn't complain about that, either. "I mean, like he was _insane. _It was so awesome."

So that's why he's late. Distracted by music. She thinks it's beautiful in a way that kind of makes her jealous because as much as she loves music herself, she thinks the last time she was impressed by (or even paid attention to) a subway performer was probably during freshman year. The starving artists thing, just like so many other New York City staples, has lost its magic over the years. She sort of wishes she could just go back to the time when it all meant something.

Or maybe she's just burnt out.

She's never really been a starving artist. Yes, up until a few days ago, she'd never had a real New York part that stretched further than one line in a Brooklyn theatre for a four show engagement, but she's never had to really struggle or anything. She spent four years in school having everything paid for and provided, and then when she hit the "real world," she moved right into a relatively nice nice apartment in a decent part of town and, thanks to a sizable legal settlement, she's never really even had to worry about paying the bills or making rent. She really only works because she needs something to do and also because being a singing waitress can't really hurt her chances of keeping her voice in shape. But she could, in all actuality, stay home and not work. So maybe she's spoiled a little bit, maybe she's never really had to struggle, and maybe that's why she can't stand for an hour and watch a saxophone player when she could be catching the train and heading home.

Maybe Noah's just a better person than her. A better person and a better musician. She's pretty sure she's known that for awhile.

"What'd you do today?" He steals the remote without asking and flips the channel to the Reds game. It's just one more thing she doesn't complain about.

"Santana made sangria." She holds up the beer bottle dully. "Clearly it didn't work."

He laughs, and he drops an arm around her shoulder and pulls her a little closer. He's in an exceptionally good mood, which is kind of odd because he's been pretty moody lately. He's acting normal, though, which is a good thing. Maybe. Really, it just means that she's about to kill that good mood, which makes her more of a bitch than she'd normally consider.

"We need to talk," she kind of mumbles, glancing up at the TV to see if she has any idea what's going on in the game. She doesn't, of course, so there goes that distraction.

Noah's just looking at her. She can feel his eyes on her as he stares at the side of her head, and it makes her feel really uncomfortable and anxious.

"Don't get mad."

"Well, that's a great way to start the conversation." He's being totally sarcastic, but it's basically the truth. She might as well be writing out a note in block lettering that reads _THIS IS GOING TO MAKE YOU REALLY MAD. _

"Noah." She sucks in a little breath and then turns her head to look at him. "The rehearsals run right through the wedding."

It doesn't feel nearly as heavy and scary now that it's out there. It just feels like something that should probably have been (and _was _actually) expected. So maybe it won't be that bad. After all, _she's _the one who set the date and insisted upon it. Maybe he doesn't even care.

But the way he won't look at her tells her she's probably wrong about that.

She waits for him to say something, even though she's not really sure she wants to hear it. But she doesn't interrupt the silence because she wants to know what he's thinking, and it's really pissing her off that she doesn't just know. She's usually pretty good at reading his mind, but it's basically impossible now.

When he does speak, she's a little surprised to hear nothing but, "Oh," as his response.

Oh. _Oh? _That's the best he can do?

"I need you to say more than that." She's not sure why she's just _asking _for pain, but it's sort of something she does. She thinks she's possibly a bit of a masochist if past actions are any indication.

"Why?" And now he _is _looking at her, and she doesn't want him to. "You're calling off our wedding to go on tour. What do you want me to say?"

That pisses her off, which she's sure is exactly what he was going for. But that's a common reaction for her. She says something, asks for an opinion, and then gets mad when he gives it. She knows it's one of her less desirable traits, but she can't help it.

"I am not calling it off," she says indignantly. "I'm just trying to ask you what you think I should do. And I asked you not to get mad."

He doesn't respond to the last part. He just pulls his arm back from around her and stands up, grabbing the bottles off the table. "You always do whatever you want anyway." He goes to the kitchen and then comes back for his sneakers. "I've got to go study," he supplies when she doesn't even ask. She doesn't know whether it's more appropriate to be pissed or to be hurt that he's just leaving. It's easier to be pissed, though, even if she _does _probably deserve it. "I'll be back later."

He doesn't tell her bye or anything. He just grabs his bag and a jacket and leaves without saying anything else. And then she realizes that she really _is _angry.

He hasn't been happy for her at all. Not really. Even when she first got the part and was so excited and felt like her life was finally coming together, he just sort of hugged her and mumbled a half-enthusiastic, "_Congratulations," _and then asked her what she wanted for dinner three minutes later after some token questions about the play. Thinking back on it, he should have been much more excited for her. He should have been jumping up and down with her, thrilled that _she _was finally getting to see part of her dream come true. He should have been _happy _for her. But he wasn't. And now that she's taken her happiness blinders off, she's really kind of pissed.

She decides that if she's going to be ignored all weekend, she might as well do something productive. So she goes to get the laundry out of both bedrooms and brings it to the living room for separating. It could probably be put off another day or so, but she has nothing better to do. And maybe something as dull and mundane as laundry will get her mind off the fact that she's engaged to someone who apparently does not care at all about her career or the one thing that will make her happy.

When his sister comes in a few minutes later, she can't really rein in her bitchiness. "Think you could ask next time?" she snaps, holding up two of her dresses and a shirt that she found in Bekah's laundry.

Bekah just kind of raises her eyebrows, obviously able to tell that she's pissed about something. "Um, I _did _ask about that one," she says, pointing to the dress she wore on her birthday. She makes no mention of the other articles of clothing, but Rachel gives up anyway. "What's wrong with you?"

"Your brother is an asshole." She keeps digging through clothes and not even bothering to look up.

She hears Bekah sit down beside her. "Are you seriously just now figuring that out?"

Rachel wants to come back with something smart, but she doesn't. She doesn't even feel like it. She just keeps pulling out whites and adding them to the pile. One of these days, someone else will do the laundry. She has faith.

"What did he do?"

She takes the bait even though she shouldn't. "He's mad at me because the rehearsals for my show are overlapping with the wedding. And all I wanted was his opinion on what I should do, but he just got up and left because he can't have any kind of rational conversation." So she's a little more bitter than she means to be, she can't help it.

"Well. I mean, are you surprised that he's mad that you canceled the wedding for a play?"

"I didn't _cancel _the wedding," she defends immediately. "We could postpone it. I'm not like calling it off or something."

Bekah just shrugs. "Well, you do know that's not even what it's about, right? I don't think he gives a shit about pushing the wedding off. It's about you leaving."

Rachel's surprised. And also kind of not surprised. She stops tugging the laundry around for a second. "He's known about that for days now."

"Yeah, and in case you haven't noticed, he's been in a pissy mood that whole time."

"Well, he could at least _try _being happy for you."

"He _is _hapy for you. He'd be an asshole if he wasn't. I mean, it's your dream and shit."

Rachel's confused, and Bekah looks like she's dealing with a toddler or something. "Look, do you really think he's looking forward to having you gone for a whole year or whatever?"

"It's not a whole year."

"Whatever." Bekah rolls her eyes. "Fuck, Rachel. You know how long we already spent without you."

Rachel's kind of taken aback by that. She doesn't really know what to say, so she just says nothing. Bekah keeps going anyway, so it doesn't really matter.

"It took us for fucking ever to get here. And now we're gonna be split up again. _He's _not going to tell you, but you going away isjust gonna suck. And that's why he's upset or whatever. The wedding thing just gave him a good excuse."

Rachel's not sure if Bekah set out to make her feel like comlete shit or if it was just some kind of accident. Either way, she's not really sure the guilt trip is fair.

"This is my career," she says evenly. "It could be my shot."

"I know that." Bekah shakes her head a little. "That's why no one's gonna tel you not to do it. Hell, you'd be _stupid _not to do it. But that doesn't mean it's not gonna suck."

"It'll suck for me, too."

"Well, obviously." Bekah shoots her a signature Puckerman smirk. "You won't have _me _around."

That kind of breaks the tension, and they both laugh. Rachel rolls her eyes, and Bekah just keeps the smirk plastered to her face. It takes a second before it turns serious again.

"He's just going to miss you. And you know he's not gonna come out and fucking tell you." Bekah shrugs.

"If he asked me not to go, I'd stay." She's completely serious.

"Yeah, and that's exactly why he won't ask."

It's frustrating. Rachel knows Bekah's right. She knows it will be tough on all of them. They've spent enough time apart to know they all work better together. As a family.

Bekah builds on that thought by attempting another joke. "But just so you know, if he murders me while you leave us here alone together, I'm totally coming back to haunt you."

Bekah has surprisingly (or maybe not surprisingly) given the most unbiased opinion yet. Everyone else who knows about the situation has seen it as A versus B, and no one's been shy about broadcasting which one they agree with. Santana took Noah's side, and Rachel's still kind of pissed about that. She's even more pissed that her father took his side, too. He gave his opinion on how this whole thing isn't really fair to Noah and how it will come across as her choosing her career over her family and a bunch of other bullshit he _should not be saying _because he's her father. But really, she's not even that shocked. He's got a huge soft-spot for Noah even if he sometimes likes to deny it, and they are sort of ridiculously close. That shouldn't bother Rachel and normally it doesn't, but it's pretty annoying when he's taking her fiance's side over her own. Luckily, her other dad is on her side. His reaction was pretty much the opposite, and he told her all the things she's been wanting someone else to recognize- like how she's been working toward this moment her entire life and how hard she's work and how badly she _wants _it.

So needless to say, she loves him best these days.

She spends the next little while doing laundry in the basement, trying hard to ignore the way the man in 2C keeps staring at her. She's got her script, and she's studying it, looking over it for at least the thirtieth time. She's practically got the entire thing memorized already, but she feels a little worse with every page tonight. She doesn't bother folding the clothes when her loads are done; she just stuffs them back into the basket and heads back upstairs. The creeper from 2C is gone, but there's another one now who is making her equally uneasy.

She's actually surprised that Noah's home when she gets back to the apartment. She's also surprised that he's got a nearly empty Starbucks cup and doesn't smell remotely of alcohol. Maybe he really _did _spend all that time studying. He gets up to help her with the laundry basket, takes it from her while she turns around to lock the door. She's kind of nervous because she expected him to be angry, not to be helping her or anything. She's not sure what it means.

"Where's Bekah?" she asks quietly, taking the basket back and glancing at the now empty couch where she left her with her calculus homework.

"In her room." He follows her back to their own room and sits down on the bed right beside the laundry basket she promptly deposits. She's fairly sure that he feels guilty about something because she's never seen him actually help with folding clothes _voluntarily. _She doesn't say anything, though, just sits down on the other side of the basket and starts pulling the clothes out to fold and separate into three different piles.

The silence finally becomes too much, though, because Noah gives up trying to fold a pair of jeans and just says, "I'm sorry that I left."

She's not surprised. In a contest of who is most likely to apologize first, he would win nearly every time hands down. She is too stubborn for that, and a lot of his own stubborn tendencies have fallen to the wayside over the last few years. He really _has _matured, and while she has, too, she's still got too much pride to let herself apologize or admit that she's wrong too often.

So she opens her mouth and says exactly what's on her mind even though she's well aware that it makes her sound like a supreme bitch. "I think you're being selfish. And I don't feel like you're supporting me."

As mature as he may be, he still has a tendency to snap the second he's attacked. She knows this perfectly well, and maybe that's a tiny part of the reason why she says it in the first place. She hates being the "mean" one, so maybe she needs to drag him down with her. Just a tiny bit.

"How am _I _being selfish?" he demands. "And what the fuck do you mean I'm not supporting you? That's all I've done your whole damn life!"

That's an exaggeration. He hasn't supported her her whole _life, _but she knows what he means. Still, she does her best to keep her anger at an appropriate level. "You know how important this is to me and how hard I've worked, and you can't even be happy about it! You haven't even seemed happy for me this whole time since I first found out. You've just seemed pissed off."

"Oh, my god, you are so full of shit." He almost looks halfway amused as he rolls his eyes. "I've been your biggest supporter since the second you _got _to this stupid city. And if anyone's selfish, it's you because you didn't even _think _about anyone else when you made up your mind to go traipsing across the country singing some Do-Re-Mi shit!"

Okay, so maybe he _is _drunk because traipsing is not a word in his normal vocabulary.

"This is my _career," _she says firmly. "This is my big break."

"Yeah, because there's never going to be any other role in any other show." The sarcasm is not missed. "It's a good damn thing you're not dramatic."

"Why are you acting like this?" she demands hatefully. "You're acting like you don't _want _me to make it!"

And Noah just rolls his eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"Well, if I'm so ridiculous, and you're so unsupportive, maybe we shouldn't get married at all."

The words are out there before she can stop them. She flinches a little bit when she sees the way he looks at her, but she keeps her face as stony as possible. 

"What the hell? Rachel... Shut up."

She knows she's being stupid now. She's grasping for straws and trying to turn this into an argument when there's no need for it. Mostly, though, she just feels really bad inside. She feels like this is going to drive some wedge between them that doesn't need to be there.

"Are you happy for me?" Her voice is a little quieter than she expects, but she just wants to know the answer.

"What? Yes, Rachel. Shit, I'm so fucking proud of you."

"But you don't want me to go." It's a statement, an observation really, not a question.

And Noah kind of looks over her shoulder for a second before he sighs and looks back at her. She knows that Bekah was completely right in everything she said, and that's all more than obvious right now. "I wish that you didn't have to go away for so long," he admits quietly. "But I know it's gonna be worth it."

"Tell me not to go." She says it instantly. It's like something inside of her clicks, and she realizes all too quickly that nine months on the road may not be the best start to her career _or _her impending marriage. Nine months is a really long time. She could have a _baby _in that time frame. It's forever, and now that she's over the initial bliss of actually landing a part, she really doesn't want to go.

Noah, though, is less accommodating. "What? No, Rachel. You have to fucking go, alright?"

"But I don't want to." It's the truth, and now that she's realized that, it makes all of this so much easier. "I don't want to go."

"Rachel." He's got that _tone _to his voice. It's familiar, and she knows what it means, but she can't really define it. "You have to go."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't go, you're going to spend the rest of your life resenting _me _because you didn't go after your one shot."

"You don't think I'll get another shot?"

"What? No..." He sighs loudly. "Rachel, I don't know. But _this _is your shot. At least it's _a _shot. You have to fucking do this." She just stares at him, trying to figure out if he's just stumbling over words or if he really thinks the highlight of her career is going to be a non-equity tour as a von Trapp child. She doesn't want that to be all she's ever going to be. He looks confused, though, maybe tired. She really doesn't think that's what he's saying; he just doesn't know how to word it differently. "Yeah, it's really gonna suck, but we can do it. I mean, shit, we've done it before."

"But that was before." She's serious now. She's not sure why it's all hitting her at once, and maybe she's being crazy and stupid, but... "I don't want to leave. I want to stay here, and I want us to get married, and I want... I'm not going."

He's staring at her. She can tell he doesn't full believe her, and she can't really blame him. She was nothing less than ecstatic after landing this role, and now she's saying she doesn't want it. That's not who she is. Rachel Berry doesn't give up things that easily, or at least she never would have in the past. But now all she can see when she thinks about it is leaving. Being away from New York for months, leaving Noah and Bekah alone, not being able to see them for weeks or maybe _months _on end. She can't stand the thought of it. If she did the play, she'd be miserable the whole time, and she knows it.

"I didn't sign a contract or anything yet," she says quietly. "So they can't like _blacklist _me or anything."

"Rach..."

"I'll keep auditioning. I know this is really dumb, but I don't want to do it."

"Don't do this because of me," he sounds completely serious, and she just nods.

"My choice," she says firmly.

There's a heavy silence around them once again, and she knows he's struggling between being thrilled and being scared senseless that she's doing them as part of some fucked up martyr syndrome. She's not. She just can't leave.

"Your birthday's in thirty-six minutes," she says, breaking the silence as she glances past him to the digital clock on the bedside table. She lets her eyelids flutter a little before looking down at the bed. "If you help me fold the rest of this, I can probably make it happy..."

She's no good at dirty talk, not unless she is heavily intoxicated. The sangria and beer from earlier that evening has long since worn off. Still, she can play innocently seductive well enough to get what she wants from time to time.

He just smirks at her and picks back up the pair of jeans he abandoned earlier. She wonders what she'd have to do to make him actually _do _the laundry?

It will happen. Someday.

…

A/N: Sorry about the massive delay here, but I've been super busy. Thanks for reading, reviews are always appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 8**

…

She finds the dress on a Tuesday.

She knows the second she puts it on that it's the one. She really can't move for a few seconds as she just stares at herself in the mirror. The bridal consultant who laced her up lets out a little _ooohh _that's probably token for every bride who shows the slightest bit of real interest in a dress. But Rachel's mesmerized.

When she walks out to the observation floor, she heads straight for the three way mirror and stares at herself from every possible angle. Bekah comes running up the platform with her eyes wider than normal. "Oh, my god, that's beautiful!"

"I think this is it." Rachel doesn't look over at her, mostly because she can't take her eyes off of her own reflection. She realizes how shallow and superficial that sounds, but it's the truth. She seriously cannot stop looking at herself.

"You look like Grace Kelly."

Rachel smiles because that's exactly who she _feels _like. She knows now that all of the Cinderella-style dresses have been way off. This one makes her feel like a _real life _princess, and she adores it. It's so classic and beautiful, and she can see herself with a bouquet and walking down the aisle in this dress. It's _perfect._

The consultant starts talking then, asking her if this is the one or if she wants to keep looking. She starts offering suggestions on headpieces and jewelry, but Rachel kind of tunes her out. She's still hypnotized by her own reflection, and it's not until she finally forces her eyes away from the mirror that she sees how happy Bekah actually looks.

"This is it?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

Bekah just smiles and nods. "Definitely!"

And that's that. The next thing she knows, she's having her measurements taken, signing paperwork, and handing over a credit card. Bekah grabs her hand while they're waiting for the card to go through, and she squeezes it a little bit with a huge smile. And for the first time, Rachel feels like maybe she's not the only one excited for this wedding.

After that, she's on a dress high and drags Bekah to several different shops to look at bridesmaid dresses. They find a lot of good options, but they both know the difficult part is going to find something that Santana will like, too. Or really just getting Bekah and Santana to agree on _anything. _Or getting them to just _get along _for more than five minutes. That will be the hard part. Rachel could just pick a dress and tell them both that they have no other choice but to wear it, but there's no way she can control whether one of them attempts murder in the meantime. They haven't exactly gotten along since... well, ever really. They just don't care for each other, and that doesn't seem to be changing any time soon.

But Bekah's being super nice and accommodating, which is both nice and worrisome at the same time. Bekah can be just fine; she can even be great. But for the past few years, those moments of niceness have come less and less often, and her hormones generally win out and make her absolutely insane. That's probably just the life of a teenager, but being slightly out of that and having to _deal _with it, Rachel's realizing that it's basically like dealing with a ticking time bomb. One second, you get quiet and calm, and then next, it's just exploding in your face and leaving nothing but damage for miles. Still, though. She'll take what she can get it.

They go out for dinner, just the two of them, and talk about more wedding stuff. Rachel's been dying for some kind of outside opinion, so it's nice to get it. Noah acts like he has no preference on _anything _and seems to be tuning her out ninety percent of the time, and Santana has flat out said on multiple occasions that she is not helping with anything besides the bachelorette party. Bekah, though, is eager to give opinions and ideas, and yeah, she might be kind of young, but it's actually really helpful. They stop on the way home and pick up some Chinese for Noah, and the three of them spend the rest of the night watching a marathon of the _Nightmare on Elm Street _movies that's randomly on cable. They're disgusting but not scary in the least, and watching the acting once again gives Rachel hope for her own career. It's basically just a fun, relaxing night, and they all go to bed in relatively good moods.

But then morning arrives.

Rachel wakes up just in time to catch Noah kissing her goodbye before he leaves for class and the first of his finals. She's a little sad at how quickly he's disappearing (literally before she even has time to say a word to him), but he has to go to class and she has to go get up because no matter how much she'd like to just lie in bed all day, she's scheduled to be at work by eleven.

She gets up and goes to the kitchen to find something for breakfast, and she turns the counter-top radio on for some backup noise as she starts preparing oatmeal. She's yawning and still half-asleep, so it's no wonder that she's practically startled straight to death when she realizes she's not alone in the apartment.

It's Wednesday at (she checks the time on the radio) 9:18. Bekah's supposed to be at school. She's not supposed to be randomly showing up in the kitchen still in her pajamas looking like someone has literally just driven a bus over her. "Can you call the school?" she mumbles, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and twisting the cap off slowly.

"Are you sick?" Rachel's confused because Bekah doesn't necessarily _look _sick. She looks more tired than anything. And she's obviously in some kind of mood that's vastly different from the happy one of the night before.

Bekah just shrugs. She seems to think that's an appropriate answer because she doesn't say anything else before heading out of the kitchen and back into her bedroom. Rachel gives her maybe thirty seconds before she goes after her, opening the bedroom door after knocking twice.

"What's wrong?"

Bekah's just sitting on her bed, leaning back against the pillows and staring out at nothing really. She doesn't actually look over at Rachel, but she kind of swallows and shakes her head a little bit. The fact that she won't say a word is what actually _worries _Rachel, so she goes over and sits down at the foot of the bed and looks at her.

"Bek?"

"I'm scared," she finally says, and she's speaking so lowly that it's almost impossible to hear her. Rachel doesn't bother asking _why _she's scared; she just waits as Bekah takes a sip of her still full water and then eventually finishes her statement. "I didn't get my period at all this month."

The weight of those words settles heavily around them, and Bekah still won't make eye-contact. Rachel doesn't know _what _to say, nothing that would be helpful anyway. She just sits there for what seems like an eternity and then says, "Do you think..."

She can't even finish the question, but Bekah knows what she's asking anyway. "I don't know," she mumbles. "Maybe."

"_Bekah!" _It's her initial reaction. Bekah looks up then, and she can finally see her eyes, scared and worried. Still, Rachel can't believe she's even having this conversation. "I didn't even know you were..."

"It was just once." Bekah looks terrified, confused, and much more like a little girl than she normally does. "I'm _sorry..."_

Rachel's not going to lecture on having sex- maybe about being _stupid _about it, but she's not going to lecture her. Mostly she's just horrified to be blindsided by this. She honestly had no idea that Bekah was anywhere close to having sex, much less already having it. She hangs out with a few boys, and she's giggled about making out with a couple, but she hasn't even had a real boyfriend since they've been in New York. She gets a lot of attention based on her looks, but for the most part, she does a good job of ignoring it. Rachel wants to ask _who _she had sex with, but she doesn't think it's her business.

Bekah's tears bring everything back to the present. She's crying now, looking more and more scared by the second. Rachel honestly just feels really sorry for her right now.

"We can go get a test." She's trying to hold it together and be as calm as possible. "I'll call the school, and then we can go."

Bekah sounds a lot younger than she is when she says, "I don't want to have a baby..."

"You need to take a test."

"But I don't _want _to have a baby."

"You don't have to." She's trying to diffuse the situation and calm everything down before it all explodes and Bekah loses it altogether. "Get dressed, and we'll go."

Rachel calls Bekah's school and lies about a stomach virus, and then she calls the restaurant and feeds the same lie to her manager. She pulls on some clothes and waits as Bekah takes nearly twice as long to do the same thing. The trip to the drugstore and back is almost unbearable. Bekah's basically close to hysterics one second and completely unresponsive the next. Rachel pretty much has to force her into the bathroom when they get home, and she's not entirely sure what to say during the three minutes the test takes to process. Bekah clearly doesn't want to say anything at all, though, so they just wait it out in silence.

Negative.

Bekah starts crying all over again, and Rachel lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. She tries to offer a halfway encouraging smile, but Bekah ignores it and just goes to her room and closes the door. Rachel could go after her, but she really doesn't want to. Mostly because she has no idea what to say.

She sits down in the living room, just trying to process everything that's occurred. She's happy, of course, that the test is negative, but now she's just thinking of all the followup conversations that need to happen. She's thinking about birth control and safety and emotions and all the other stuff that she has absolutely no idea how to approach or explain. This doesn't even seem real.

It's almost noon when she finally moves from the sofa, and that's only because she hears a key in the lock. Noah's home from class, and he looks surprised to see her. "I thought you had work?"

"I wasn't feeling well." She lies without thinking about it. Then she realizes she needs to cover for Bekah, too, so she gives him that lie as well. "Bekah's sick, too. I think it's a bug."

He buys it without question because he has no reason not to. It occurs to Rachel that this is the first time Noah has passed her mind since this morning, and she hasn't made any plans whatsoever on how (or even _if) _she wants to break this news. Bekah didn't ask her to keep it a secret, but then again, Bekah didn't say much of anything. Rachel has enough sense to realize that there's absolutely no way in the world this would just go off seamlessly with Noah involved. He would probably react in the dumbest, worst way possible, and that would be beneficial for absolutely no one. The last thing she needs is some epic explosion where Noah acts like an idiot and Bekah pulls out every bitch move she's got stored up in her arsenal (which is honestly probably a lot).

So just better for him not to know.

There's a flaw in her plan of secrecy, though, and when he goes to the bathroom and comes out holding an empty pregnancy test box, she almost panics. He doesn't say anything, just looks at her and raises his eyebrows. And before she even knows what's really happening, Rachel hears herself saying, "I just took it to be sure. I was just making sure since I've been sick and everything..." She has no idea why (or how) lying has started coming so easily to her, but it's a little bit worrisome.

"And?" She can't help but look at him right then and notice the way his eyes look both nervous _and _hopeful, and she immediately feels worse than before.

"Negative." At least that part's not a lie. She does _not _watch his face for his reaction; she's not sure she wants to know. She is a truly horrible person.

She hears him say something, but she doesn't listen. It's just something vague like, "Oh," or, "Okay." She doesn't want to extend this out anymore than it already is. She doesn't miss the probably karmic payback that settles as a low ache in the bottom of her stomach.

But then it all falls apart.

She hears Bekah's door open and can't give any kind of unspoken warning before she's in the living room and staring at the box in her brother's hand. She still looks terrible, and her eyes immediately well back up with tears. Noah is confused and doesn't get it yet. He just looks at her, unsure of what's really going on until Bekah looks past him at Rachel and says, "You _told _him?" And then it's basically over.

The exact second when Noah pieces it together is obvious. His expression goes from slightly confused to slightly horrified to full-out angry, and his head snaps around to _Rachel _before he even has a chance to say a word to his sister. "Are you fucking _serious?"_

"I-" She has no idea what she's going to say, but it doesn't matter because Noah's attention is pulled elsewhere by the fact that Bekah's trying once again to close herself up in her room.

"Rebekah Leighann Puckerman, you get the fuck back here!"

It is literally the first time Rachel has heard full name calling, and it sounds so weird and out of place that she's almost amused for half a second. But that's over quickly enough when Bekah comes storming back out looking more than ready to fight.

"Don't yell at me!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bekah glares at him, all traces of her tears are now replaced with nothing but hate-filled stares. "There is nothing wrong with me," she counters meanly. "Don't you dare stand there and scream at me when I haven't done _half _the shit did!"

"Stop it!" Rachel tries to break in the middle, but they both ignore her completely.

Noah doesn't comment on his sister's latest accusation. Instead, he goes off on another tirade that might possibly make him sound like the dumbest, most hypocritical person alive. "You are _sixteen _years old! You are too young to be having sex!"

Bekah must think that sounds as dumb as Rachel does because she immediately rolls her eyes. "Oh, my god, shut up. You brought a pregnant girl home in tenth grade."

"And you didn't _learn _anything from that?" He sounds absolutely crazy, and Rachel's nearly positive that someone's going to end up dead from this. At this point, she's not sure who to bet on.

"Learn what?" Bekah demands, and her voice is calmer now, which seems somehow even scarier. "Learn not to sleep with my best friend's boyfriend because karma's a bitch? Yeah, that's basically the only lesson I got out of that."

It's a very low blow, and Bekah obviously knows it. That's probably exactly why she said it in the first place. She stands there with her eyes wide, almost like she's daring him to try and contradict her. He doesn't. Noah actually seems almost stunned speechless for a second. He just stares at her like he can't believe she actually said that, and Rachel just wants them both to shut up.

"Oh, my god, would you just stop it? Both of you?" She tries again to put an end to it, but Bekah doesn't even look at her, and Noah just holds up a hand that basically tells her to stay out of it. She'd be offended, but his voice is significantly lower and more controlled when he speaks again.

"First of all, you know fuck all about that, so keep your mouth shut before you go talking shit about situations you've got no clue about. Second of all-"

She cuts him off. "I'm sorry, but I think I know pretty much all of it, considering I was _there _and had to watch Mom cry for months because there was some random knocked up cheerleader living upstairs. Not to mention all the other shit you did- getting arrested, getting suspended, almost getting expelled, coming home stoned out of your fucking mind... Do you think I was _blind _or something? I know everything you fucking did, so don't say shit to me right now!"

After that, it's just quiet. Rachel pretty much wishes she was _anywhere _but in her living room right now. Bekah's still fuming and glaring and looking like she has plenty more up her sleeve should she be provoked. And Noah appears to be chewing the inside of his cheek. He doesn't say a word.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Bekah, now confident that she's officially won, goes back to her room and shuts the door. Noah stares after her, but he makes no move whatsoever to follow or to say anything else. Rachel really wants to say something, but there's basically nothing _to _say.

"Noah..."

He looks at her. Something in his eyes looks weird, but she can't place it. "She's right." He just shakes his head. "What the hell am I supposed to say to that when every fucking word of it's true?"

"She's just upset right now. You just need to leave her alone for a little while and let her calm down."

But Noah just shakes his head again. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to be the one who has to deal with her having sex or... or _whatever. _I can't tell her not to have sex!"

"You don't need to tell her that. She's sixteen, she's going to do whatever she wants. But somebody needs to tell her _something _because she needs to at least be safe and know what she's getting into."

"She's not pregnant, is she?" He looks really scared and nervous, and she just shakes her head. Then he kind of looks away for a second and then back at her. "Why did you lie to me?"

The brief moment she spent hoping that he somehow forgot that is gone, and she really has no explanation whatsoever. Mostly, all she can do is tell the truth (for once). "Because I knew this would happen."

"Don't... lie to me, Rachel," he says quietly. "I don't lie to you."

"I'm sorry." And she really is. She swallows, thankful that at least for the time being, everything is fairly calm. "I just didn't want it to blow up... Bekah's really upset."

"I can't talk to her about this shit." Maybe his moment of anger is gone. "I don't know what to say, I... I hate having to deal with this crap."

"I'll talk to her. Later. Not right now."

He nods, but she can tell he's still pretty messed up about all of this. She can't really blame him because he's probably just as blindsided by this as she is. Neither one of them knew this was going on, and if they didn't know about this, there's no telling what else is happening that they're unaware of.

Maybe Rachel's the wrong person for this. Besides a very brief few weeks during her junior year when she let Noah talk her into every bad thing she's ever done, she's never really _done _anything. She's never really been in trouble, never done many things to make her parents upset or worried. Even when she started having sex, she _told _her parents. There just weren't secrets, mostly because she didn't usually do anything to _keep _secret. So she's not sure what she's supposed to do in this situation and how she's supposed to react to things that she probably (definitely) doesn't want to even find out about.

But Bekah's not going to talk about any of this with Noah. They'll be lucky if she even talks to Rachel. She's open to a point, but with her mood swings, there's no telling when she's going to snap or close herself off completely. They'll just have to play it by ear. Rachel will just have to work at not overreacting. There's no way Bekah will tell her anything if she thinks she's being judged. She's defensive and over-sensitive. Maybe Rachel never did many bad things, but she _was _a sixteen year old girl once. And not that long ago.

"Are you mad at me?" She blinks at him because she knows it makes her look more innocent. She's not above using subtle acts of manipulation, but she needs to know that he's not angry with her.

He shakes his head, but she can tell how upset he really is.

"I swear I wasn't lying just to..." She has no idea what she even wants to say, but he cuts her off anyway.

"I know." At least one of them does.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He looks back toward the bedrooms at Bekah's closed door and sighs a little too loudly. "Are you really sick?"

"No."

"Do you want to go out? I need a break."

She nods because she gets it. She could use a break, too. Plus, it probably can't hurt to give Bekah some actual time alone. Rachel wants to talk to her, but she knows that right now anything she says would just lead to another fight. So she leaves it alone.

"I really fucking love you."

She's surprised to hear that, and she turns around before she goes to their room to get her purse. He's just looking at her, and she doesn't know what that means or why he said that. She just nods and gives him the smallest of smiles.

She kind of needs to hear that anyway because she has a feeling this isn't going to get any easier.

…

A/N: Again, thanks for reading. Reviews are awesome.


	9. Chapter 9

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 9**

…

She starts to lose it about three weeks before the wedding.

Really, she should be given some sort of award for keeping it together this long. Planning a wedding from a different state is difficult, and eventually, it starts to overwhelm her. She's got a wedding planner working in Lima, and she's doing as much as she can in New York (which basically extends to the wardrobe choices). But she is an extremely Type A personality, and not being in total control of major situations basically gives her panic attacks. She has to give too much control to the wedding planner (a woman she's never even actually _met), _and she basically has to trust her opinion on things like the cake and the caterer and the photographer and all the other little details that she be in total control of.

So it's no surprise when she finally cracks.

It's flowers that do her in. Stupid, really, because the flowers aren't even a huge deal in the grand scheme of the wedding. But still, they're important, and Rachel really needs to be making _some _kind of calls in her own wedding. She spends half an hour on the phone with the florist that her planner recommended, and she's pleased when they offer to email her some pictures of other weddings to give her an idea and get a feel of what she wants. She can work with that. The problem, of course, is that she basically loves every single picture. And the flowers that she previously thought weren't even a big deal suddenly seem like the most important detail in the world.

She's stuck between what to use in the bouquets. Calla lilies, roses, or a mix? She's going back and forth between the pictures, trying to make a decision, but it seems like she has too many pros and cons for each choice and just can't narrow the field anymore than that. So she asks for an opinion. She really doesn't think it's asking too much that her groom-to-be help on one tiny little detail, considering the fact that he's done absolutely nothing to help with anything else.

But when she asks him, all she gets in return is, "Whatever you want."

And so she snaps.

"You don't care about this at all! I could use a little fucking help once in awhile!"

He just stares at her because he clearly doesn't know how to react to her sudden outbursts. She thinks he should have a better idea by now, and she absolutely does not feel the least bit bad. He continues his streak of saying the wrong thing with, "It's just flowers."

"You haven't helped with _anything! _And these flowers are important!"

"Oh, my god, cut the crazy back like fifty degrees."

And then it's basically over. She spends the next ten minutes screaming at him and bringing up anything and everything that she can think of that might hint that he's inattentive and uninterested. Then she accuses him of not caring at all about the wedding because he doesn't care about _her. _And he yells back, tells her she's crazy about five more times and that she needs to shut up. Eventually, she gets sick of yelling (definitely not good for her voice), so she snaps into giving him the silent treatment, and when Bekah gets home from her friend's house and asks what's wrong, Rachel not-so-quietly informs her that her brother doesn't even want to get married. That gets him worked up again, and he starts loudly going off to no response. Rachel doesn't even acknowledge him; she just goes to their room, closes the door, and starts texting Santana because she's always good for Noah-bashing.

He comes in an hour later to get ready for bed and tries to make nice. He even apologizes before he tries to kiss her and slip a hand around her waist. Of course, he's absolutely _stupid _if he thinks she's letting him anywhere _near _her tonight. She moves away from him and lies down on the furthest edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible without actually rolling into the floor.

That doesn't stop him from trying.

He tries the entire next day to trick her into talking to him. He tries even harder to trick her into sleeping with him. He pulls out all his usual seduction moves and all the seemingly innocent teasing touches that normally get to her. She ignores every single one of them and does not speak to him all day. On the third day, he gets her to talk, but that's only because she has to give him an account number while he's transferring some money online. Other than that, she keeps up the silent treatment and dodges him every single time he tries to touch her. By the fourth day, he's just pissed, and she knows that's because he basically _never _goes that long without getting at least _some _kind of sexual contact. So he's pissed off and horny, and he basically flat out tells her she's being a bitch. She speaks to him then- "That's not helping you at all"- and he spends the night on the sofa.

On day five, though, he stops her just as she's coming out of the bathroom post-shower and basically blocks her way so that she has no choice but to stand there and listen to him. When she tries to move around him to get back to the bedroom, he moves, too, and won't let her. She tries again and goes the opposite direction, but he moves that way, too. So finally she gives up and crosses her arms because that's an unspoken cue that she's really pissed off.

"Are you seriously for real not speaking to me because of some goddamned flowers?" He sounds almost in disbelief, but she keeps her face stony and just looks at him. "Because that's pretty fucking fucked up, you know that, right?"

And, since he called her a bitch just the day before, she decides to live up to the label. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

She gets past him then and goes to their room. He follows and apparently takes her one sentence as evidence that she's now speaking to him. "_Flowers, _Rachel," he spits out like she's incapable of following normal conversation or something. "_Flowers. _Seriously?"

She stops with the drawer to the dresser halfway open and looks at him. "It's important," she snaps. "This is our wedding, and you don't even care."

"Oh, my god." He rolls his eyes, and she just stares at him, waiting for him to continue. "You have known me _literally _since the day I was born. Have you _ever _seen me give a fuck about flowers? _Ever? _In my whole entire life?"

And then she slams the drawer back into the dresser without getting anything out. "This isn't just about the flowers!" she snaps, once again crossing her arms defensively. "This is about _you _not helping at _all. _I have been working my ass off on this stuff for months now, and you act like you couldn't give less of a crap! Like you don't even care!"

"Because I _don't!"_

He seems to realize about five seconds too late exactly how that sounds and exactly why it's not the best thing to say. She stares at him, and the hurt she's feeling must be evident on her face because he flinches a little bit. It's one of his talents, though- while he can be the sweetest person in the world, he also has a knack for finding the worst possible things to say and saying them.

"Shit." He blinks and tries immediately to backtrack. "That's not what I meant. I _do _care," and she can tell he's being at least partly sincere. "I... Fuck. I care about marrying you, okay? But the rest of the shit doesn't matter to me. Like the flowers or the centerpieces or whatever, I just don't give a shit. I just want you to have whatever _you _like. Because we could have freaking garden weeds in the bouquets, and I probably wouldn't know the difference."

She knows he's telling the truth, but it still bothers her a little bit. "I just want an opinion," she says quietly. "I'm getting really stressed out."

And then he's got one eyebrow raised, letting her know that he's about to take the conversation somewhere else entirely. She should probably be more bothered by that than she actually is.

"I can help with that." He's got both hands on her hips and tugs her forward until she's just a few inches in front of him.

"Noah." She keeps her arms crossed and just looks up at him, careful to keep her face completely blank.

"What?" He's trying to sound innocent or something, but, of course, he's failing miserably, so he gives up and falls back on what he's best at- filth. "You know I'm good for it." She does, but that's hardly the point. "And orgasms relieve stress by like ninety-six percent. There's research."

"What research?"

"It's on the Internet."

"Porn sites are not reputable sources, Noah."

"I don't know, they can be pretty damn informative."

She giggles against her better judgment, and he takes her momentary lapse to move one hand from her hip to the knot at the top of her towel. She lets her arms uncross, but she puts a halting hand on his shoulder. "I'm still mad at you."

He ignores her, but he stops trying to undo her towel. Instead, he uses the hand that's still holding her hip to pull her forward as he backs up to the bed. He sits down, and she's really got no control over the way she follows and lands in his lap with one knee on either side of him.

"Stop trying to seduce me." She doesn't sound half as serious as she'd like, and he kind of grins and rolls his eyes. He ignores her and once again moves back to the knot on her towel.

"You don't sound very sincere." He leans in and presses a slow kiss right underneath her ear, knowing fully well that it's one of her hot spots and that he's not playing fair, so she leans her head away because he's not getting off that easily (even if this will inevitably end with both of them _literally _getting off).

"I'm serious," she insists, and she puts on her best serious face to back herself up. "I'm very good at holding grudges."

"I know." He smirks, which is not at all what she was going for. "Keep holding it, it's kind of hot."

She lifts a hand to smack his chest, but he just catches her wrist and leans backwards until he's lying flat on his back, and she's sprawled on top of him because she basically has nowhere else to go. He keeps a grip on her wrist, tight enough to ensure that she's not going anywhere, and just kind of smiles up at her while she tries to look annoyed.

"I'm mad." She stares at him and purses her lips because she doesn't know what else to do.

"It's good when you're pissed," and he's still got that annoying little smirk. "Shit, you know it is."

That's his worst kept secret ever- he _likes _pissing her off because he thinks it makes things hotter. This situation is a little different, of course, because they've been fighting for days now (and they've both actually been _legitimately _angry at one point or another), but at the moment, he just wants her annoyed enough that she'll start getting pissy. Then he'll take advantage of that situation and turn it into something that's all about sex (_angry _sex), and he'll ultimately win. If that's his plan, he'll have pulled it off completely, and she's not sure wants that to happen.

So instead of getting mad, she just leans down and kisses him roughly and deeply, which is probably the opposite of whatever he expects. She can tell she catches him off-guard because it takes him a second to even kiss her back, but then he does, and she can definitely tell that it's been far too long (_days) _since the last time they even did this. He's still got one of her wrists, but she's using her other hand to balance as it rests right beside his head. His own free hand is locked tightly in her hair, yanking a little too roughly to get her closer. It feels good, though, and she's not about to tell him to stop.

"This isn't fair." She half-whines/half-giggles when he moves them so she's pinned underneath him now. The knot on her towel is already basically loosened to useless, and it becomes completely nonexistent when he drops her wrist and barely tugs it. She's very much aware of the fact that she is wearing absolutely _nothing _underneath that towel and is now subsequently naked. She's also very aware that he is still dressed completely, so she grabs the bottom of his t-shirt and yanks it up past his waist until he decides to give in and help her and pulls it up over his head.

His shirt's dropped somewhere off the side of the bed, but she's not concerned with that at all. She's kind of distracted by his body, which is stupid because she's seen it a million times before in every state of undress. But he's very attractive, enough so that she still notices it and gets sidetracked by it sometimes. Like right now. He's back over her, and he's pressing a slow kiss right to her shoulder while one hand stays steady at the back of her head and the other squeezes the space right below her waist gently. She's not sure where this slow stuff is coming from, but it probably just means he's going to tease her to the point of insanity. Sometimes (a lot of times), she really likes that. Right now, though, she's becoming very aware of the fact that her body is picking up on the fact that it's been longer than usual, and she kind of just wants to get on with it.

"I thought you were holding a grudge." She barely gets to kiss him again before he's lifting his head and staring down at her challengingly.

"I'm about to hold a serious one if you don't _stop _that," and she swats away the hand that's tracing fingertips across the top of her thigh.

"Don't act like you don't like it."

So she's going to have sex with him. That's a given. She's not really sure how this turned into a five day fight in the first place, but the best part of fighting will always be making up. What she doesn't like, though, is the fact that he's going to torture her now when really she just wants to get down to it. And the only reason he's going to torture her is because he _knows _she just wants to get on with it. She's completely naked and laid out underneath him. He can read her well enough to know exactly how she wants it, and he's going to do exactly the opposite just to get back at her for the silent treatment thing.

She tries to distract him, grabs his head with both hands and pulls it down so that she can kiss him again. He lets her do just that for a minute or so, and she honestly thinks she may be able to get away without being tortured. But before the thought's barely crossed her mind, he's lifting his head and smiling down at her. He must know that she's fully aware of what he's got planned because he looks way too pleased with himself. But then he just kisses her collarbone and moves a little further over to kiss her shoulder.

It goes on like that. He kisses down her body in the slowest, most ridiculous manner possible. She'd complain, but it seriously feels like heaven. One of his hands trails up and down her side, but the other stays locked with one of her own. She hates that she thinks that's so sweet, but she's a sucker for it, and he knows it. When he's on his knees and kissing her hip, though, she's just about had it. He's not moving, either, and she half-suspects that he's trying to put a hickey there, which is both stupid and charming at the same time.

But it gets old pretty quickly.

He lets the hand that's trailing her waistline drop to her other hip and slowly slide to just centimeters away from where she really wants it, and the frustrated sigh that slips out is completely unplanned. She can literally _feel _him smile against her thigh, and it really doesn't help her frustration.

"What's wrong?" He lifts his face a little and looks up at her, and she has the strongest urge to just lift her knee and bang him in the side of the head. She doesn't, though; she just narrows her eyes.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" And he drops a quick kiss to the same spot he was just sucking on at exactly the same time that he lets his fingertips just barely brush against her.

"Oh, my god," she groans, letting her head fall back against the pillow in irritation. "Why are you doing that?"

"You're mad at me anyway, so what does it matter?"

But then he gives in. She knew he would, but it still doesn't make her any less pleased. He's still got one of her hands, but she uses the other one to still his neck and keep his head from going _anywhere _else. He's really good at this. Like ridiculously good. And even though she wasn't particularly _looking _for this tonight, she's not going to complain.

The frustrated sigh is soon followed up by a low and almost embarrassing sigh, and she knows he's pleased with himself because he increases the pressure down there just slightly. She wonders how long he could actually keep it up if she didn't stop him. She doesn't have much to compare it to because he is the first and only person to ever do it, but according to his own bragging, he can go for much longer than average guys can (or _will). _She pretty much believes him.

Plus, Santana confirmed it once in what was probably a less awkward conversation than it should have been.

He leaves her hanging, and she's not surprised. She knows he's not done paying her back for the past week, but that doesn't mean she's happy about it. She actually whines before she puts her best bitch-face back on and glares at him when he starts kissing back up her body instead of finishing what he started.

"You are a horrible person."

He raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't say a word until his tongue has moved literally across her entire shoulder and to her neck. Then he just shakes his head a little bit. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are because this is not funny." And she tries not to notice the way he just barely squeezes the hand that he's _still _holding. It _really _shouldn't make her as hot as it actually does.

"Then you should be nicer to me."

She rolls her eyes, but he's kissing her again, and she knows a good opportunity when she sees one. She gets control of both of her hands and pushes him so that they switch places. And she doesn't even bother saying anything else because the only thing on her mind right now is getting his pants off. It's not fair at all that she's completely naked and he's practically still fully clothed.

"You gonna be nice to me now?" And he looks down to where she's working his zipper. She knows what he's asking, and he's out of his mind.

"Not a chance."

He laughs- not that it's particularly funny or anything, but he's obviously amused by the fact that she's clearly still angry and even moreso now that he's frustrated her near to the point of insanity. Still he grabs her shoulders and pulls her back down for another kiss. He's more into it now; this kiss is less teasing and more business, and she can definitely appreciate that. She's not even aware that she's grinding down onto him until she feels one hand leave her shoulder and come down hard and stinging on her hip to stop her. It's a lost cause, though, and she basically tells him that when she stops kissing him long enough to get his pants the rest of the way off.

She's definitely going to come out the winner.

So they're officially made up after that, which is nice, and Noah actually starts interjecting (very minor) opinions into the wedding discussions.

It takes a few days, but she manages to order flowers, finalize the cake design, and she even manages to decide on a bridesmaid dress. She takes Bekah and Santana to the store together and has them both try it on. It looks really good on both of them, and neither of them seem to hate it. Plus, they get along decently for once, which is shocking all in itself. So everything's going pretty smoothly for once.

Rachel finishes the invitations, knowing that she's pushing what's considered acceptable timing. Everything is running later than she would like, but she's planning this whole wedding in an incredibly short amount of time. It's not like she can do much to help the fact that the invitations are later than usual. She loves them, though. They're simple, yet pretty, and there's real ribbon edging to them. They were kind of stupidly expensive, but she's not paying for it, so she honestly doesn't care that much. The guest list is a little difficult, simply because they have to invite everyone from Lima and also everyone in New York, even though the chances of any of their New York friends going to Ohio for a wedding are slim to none. Still, it's courtesy, so they do it.

They do throw a mini-party in New York, just so they can actually feel like all of their friends are included in some way. It's not actually a _party, _though. It's just them and their friends and dinner that turns into way too many drinks at a bar afterward. It's a lot of fun, but it gets pretty crazy. It starts out semi-classy, just dinner and wine at a restaurant, but it goes a little wild when they move down the block to the bar. That probably shouldn't be a surprise, but they don't really go out in groups this big on normal occasions. They go out with a few friends sometimes, but Rachel hasn't been out with this many people since college, and it's more fun than it probably should be.

It doesn't hurt that quite a few of her friends _from _college are here. She doesn't get to see them too often, but there are several that stayed in the city after graduation, and she really doesn't even realize she's missed them until they're all doing shots at the bar and cracking up at inside jokes she's forgotten even existed. Some of her friends from work are here, too, and she's honestly _never _really spent much time with them outside of the restaurant. She doesn't even _know _most of Noah's friends, so it's nice getting to meet them, too. It's just a really fun night, and she's kind of sad that these people won't be at their actual wedding.

Santana's late and shows up after everyone's already at the bar. Rachel would be pissed, but Santana told her ahead of time that she might not make dinner. Mostly, she's just glad to see her at all. She's already pretty drunk by the time Santana gets there, so she's _especially _excited when Santana comes up to their table and taps her on the back. Rachel practically falls off her bar stool in an effort to hug her, but Santana knows her well enough to predict this and catches her before she actually hits the floor.

She expects Santana to go crazy playing catch up on the shots and get drunk with her quickly, but apparently she's not really drinking at all. She orders a Diet Coke from the bar, and when Rachel looks at her like she's insane, she says she's just tired and doesn't feel like getting wasted. By that point, Rachel's already too far gone to care about anyone else getting wasted. Everyone is buying her shots and drinks, and because everyone's buying them for Noah, too, he's not really around to tell her to stop. Santana's there, though, and even though there are a lot of people around that she considers friends, Santana's the only one she _really _trusts. So she doesn't really feel bad about relegating her to babysitter status even if it _is _kind of depressing that she's not getting drunk _with _her. And even though Rachel's drunk, she can tell something's off with Santana. She asks her about it during a trip to the bathroom, but Santana just tells her it's nothing and helps her find an empty stall.

Noah seems to notice, too, and he comes up to them at the bar, throws an arm around each of their shoulders, and looks right at Santana. "What's up your asshole?"

"You're so charming when you're wasted." Santana rolls her eyes, takes her soda from the bartender and easily slips out from under his arm.

"Seriously, what's up? And why aren't you drunk?" He grabs the bartender's attention before he disappears and orders two shots of tequila. "Drink this," he demands, shoving one of the shot glasses into Santana's hand. "And here, baby, Merry Wedding," he hands the other one to Rachel.

"I'm not drinking tonight." Santana passes the shot back to him. "My head's already killing me."

"You're being super fucking lame." That's all he says before he taps Rachel's glass with his own and nods his head so that they can both turn the shots up.

Santana takes on the task of actually getting them home that night. They're both way too drunk, and even though they don't have to drive anywhere, it's still a little iffy as to whether they can successfully make it via taxi. So Santana goes with them and leans around Rachel to punch Noah pretty hard in the shoulder when he lets his hand creep a little bit too far up Rachel's skirt.

"You guys are fucking gross," she snaps, grabbing his wrist and putting it back in his own lap before she ignores them to lean her head against the window. Rachel's just a little bit too far past drunk to tell her that she could catch lice that way.

Bekah's spending the night with one of her friends, so Santana announces that she's staying because it's too late to go home. The cab's already gone, and she says she's not risking be raped or kidnapped while trying to get another one. Rachel's fine with that arrangement, and, it seems, so is Noah. Really, Rachel's not even aware of much of anything except the fact that she wants her bed _now. _It's after three, and she's literally about to fall over both from exhaustion and from the amount of alcohol currently in her bloodstream. So she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and leaves Noah and Santana to lock up before getting into bed and falling immediately asleep.

She doesn't wake up until the next morning, and the only reason she wakes up then is because someone is _screaming. _

She's _way _too hungover and sick from the very first second she gains consciousness, and it takes her a second to even realize what is happening. But then she realizes Noah's not there and the person who is screaming is Bekah. And then she puts the pieces together and realizes that Bekah's apparently not pleased at all to come home and find Santana asleep in her room.

Rachel debates getting up at all. She's tired and sick, and she has a feeling that the first hint of movement is going to send her head splitting straight in half. Still, Noah and Santana ganging up on Bekah during one of her tantrums is going to spell good news for absolutely no one, so she forces herself to (slowly) sit up and takes two Tylenol from the bottle in the nightstand before she even attempts to stand up.

All three of them are now in the kitchen, and they're still arguing. Santana's not actually saying anything; she's just rolling her eyes and glaring as she digs through the cabinet for the coffee. Noah looks hungover and pissed off, so it's not really surprising that he's being a total asshole to his little sister. Bekah's the only one who seems wide-awake and fully well. Too bad, she's taking advantage of that by screaming that no one should be sleeping in her bed and that she has a right to privacy and a bunch of other stuff that just seems really, really _stupid _right now.

So Rachel just cuts her off. "Bekah, shut up. It's not a big deal."

They all look at her, and she's fully aware that she's still in last night's clothes and that her hair is knotted and that her makeup is probably smeared all over her face. She also doesn't care. She just ignores them and edges Santana out of the way so that she can actually _get _to the coffee because the sooner it's made and ready, the better off they're all going to be.

Bekah's pissed, but she apparently doesn't see the point in arguing anymore because she just glares at all of them before going back to her room and closing the door. She's angry, and maybe she has a legitimate reason to be, but no one's in the mood for it right now.

The remaining three sit down in the living room after the coffee's made, and Santana finally tells them what's going on. She looks somewhat upset, but really, she just seems more frustrated than anything.

"I think I'm dropping out of law school."

She just kind of puts it out there, and Rachel really doesn't know _what _to say in response. Noah's the one who actually speaks, and he obviously doesn't even think she's being serious.

"Can't hack it?"

"I'm doing fine," she snaps back because apparently she's not in the mood for jokes. "Or I'm doing okay at least. Whatever. I just don't want to do it anymore."

So she's serious. Rachel just stares at her, and once again, it's Noah who actually comments.

"So... you just spent fifty grand on like _one_ _year _of school, and now you're just wasting it because you just don't want to do it anymore? What the fuck, Santana, for real?"

"I'm not interested in it!" She's really defensive, which could mean any number of things, but Rachel's pretty sure it just means that her parents have been giving her shit (understandably, since it was _their _money). "I'm not going to waste the next two years of my life and waste all that money for something I don't even want to _do _anymore. It's like boring, and I'm just... Whatever, I just don't want to do it."

"So what are you going to do?" Rachel finally speaks up.

Santana shrugs. "I don't know. I'll just get a job doing something else."

"Are you staying here?"

"Maybe. I mean, like if I find a job or whatever, but I don't know. I'm not going back to Lima."

Rachel doesn't blame her for that. They've all worked hard to get out and stay out. Some of their other friends never left, and some others left and came back after college. Some only made it halfway through school and came back even sooner than that. Rachel has no desire to ever go back, and she can understand why Santana shares the same train of thought. Still, New York City is an expensive place, and if Santana's not in school, Rachel really can't see her parents footing the bill to stay here.

Santana's spoiled, but her parents can be _very _uptight when they want to be.

So really, all this basically means that Santana's probably leaving, and Rachel's not sure she wants to deal with that right at the moment.

…

A/N: Next up, back to Lima!


	10. Chapter 10

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 10**

…

On her wedding day, Rachel wakes up with a headache and an uneasy stomach.

She's not quite to the edge of hungover, but she's teetering there. She was careful the night before, knowing that getting wasted would not prove so wise for her today. Still, she drank a fair share, and she can feel it when she opens her eyes to the sound of her alarm. Instinctively, she wants to hit the snooze button about twelve times, but she knows better. There are a million and one things to do today, and she has to get up and do them.

She forces herself out of bed and heads downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. Both of her parents are already awake, and she finds them sitting at the island with bagels and coffee, and she's pretty sure nothing's ever looked quite as appealing as that breakfast does right now.

It's just too bad her dad almost starts crying the second she walks in the room.

"Oh, lord." She rolls her eyes, but she bites down on a half-smile.

He smiles back and shakes his head a little, while her other dad rolls his eyes, too. She knows they're happy for her, but she also knows today is going to be difficult. Clearly more difficult for one of her parents than it is for the other, but difficult nonetheless. So she hugs them both before pouring herself a cup of coffee and grabbing a bagel from the bag.

"Did you have fun last night?"

It's sort of a trick question. Yes, she's an adult, and yes, she'll be married woman in a matter of hours, but she still doesn't feel comfortable confessing to her parents that she spent the night before in a local bar drinking quite a few Pineapple Malibus and singing approximately fifteen songs during karaoke night. (Turns out, she's apparently one of the very few people in this town who actually seems to _enjoy _karaoke. _Shocking.) _Her parents know she disappeared with her friends after the post-temple rehearsal last night, but she's still not going to give them details.

"Yeah, it was fun. I'm just super tired now." Cryptic is always the way to go.

"You better wake up. Big day today." And she watches as her father's eyes fill _again _with tears. She's scared to see his reaction to the actual wedding.

"Daddy, stop," she says quietly because if he doesn't stop, she's going to _start, _and she's already promised herself that she's not going to spend this entire day in tears. She hugs him again and kisses his cheek because she knows he'll try to keep it together if she really needs him to.

She goes back upstairs to wake Bekah up when she finishes her breakfast and some last-minute details with her fathers. The guest room is still quiet when she gets to it, so she pushes the door open carefully and sees Bekah still asleep in the middle of the full-size bed. Rachel climbs under the covers with her and lays down, shaking her shoulder just slightly to wake her up.

"Wake up," she whispers. "I need to talk to you."

Bekah's eyes flutter open, and she stares at Rachel for a second as if she's trying to orient herself enough to make sense of what's happening. It only takes a second, though, and then she's smirking. "It's too late to back out now."

Rachel shoves her a little bit and shakes her head. "This is about _you," _she says pointedly.

"Most things are." Bekah tries to be serious, but she ends up smiling a second later because she's incapable of keeping a straight face.

Rachel rolls her eyes and leans up on one elbow. "Look, I'm serious." Bekah looks at her, waiting patiently for whatever it is that needs to be said. Rachel's been thinking about how to phrase it for awhile, but nothing she come up with is going to make it sound any less sappy, so she just says it. "I always wanted a sister, and I really hope you know how much I love you."

Bekah doesn't say anything right away. She just kind of looks at Rachel and then raises an eyebrow. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because it's true." And she's being completely serious. She knows it sounds lame and sappy, but it's the truth. "I know we fight a lot, but I really love you, and I'm so happy to be a part of your family."

Bekah kind of smiles, and Rachel knows she's not going to get some huge sentimental essay in return, but she knows her own words have made impact. Bekah sort of knees her and then rolls her eyes. "We'll see if you keep saying that after a month or so of being a Puckerman."

They both laugh then because she's already a part of their family, and really nothing is changing except that it's going to be official. But they both know Rachel's telling the truth, and they both know Bekah feels the same way even if she's rarely said anything along those lines since she was twelve years old. They _are _a family, though, and they both know it. This is just cementing it.

Rachel goes to her bathroom to shower, and Bekah takes the hallway bathroom. They've got a ton to do, and Santana's already at the house by the time Rachel gets out of the shower. She's sitting on Rachel's bed with her legs crossed and her phone in her hands. There's no actual greeting of _good morning _or _hello _or _it's your wedding day! _No, Santana just sighs loudly and gives Rachel a look that lets her know something is not perfect.

"What's wrong?" She's still in a towel, and her hair is dripping all over the floor, but Rachel's not moving until she finds out why Santana is wearing that particular expression.

"Your soon-to-be-husband and his best man are likely both still drunk."

Rachel just stares at her, trying to see if she actually heard her correctly. "What? Did you talk to them?"

"No, I talked to the wifey." The wifey, of course, meaning Destiny. "She said they just got home two hours ago, and that they're currently passed out together on the sofa bed. So good luck with that."

Rachel barely blinks. It takes her a second to process that, and then the only thing she can think to say is, "What the hell were they doing until 7:30 in the morning?"

"I don't know, but they need to wake the fuck up because there's a lot of shit they're supposed to be doing today. And I swear to god if Finn doesn't get off his ass and help me with all this bullshit, I'm gonna be pissed the fuck off."

Rachel ignores the fact that Santana just referred to normal wedding prep duties as bullshit. Instead, she focuses on the first part of the statement because it's completely true. "They need to already be up! Is Destiny going to wake them up?"

"I don't know. She sounded pissed as hell. But shit, who can blame her? She's married to Finn Hudson and knocked up with his kid."

Rachel's not even in the mood today. "Santana, you have to go over there and wake them up. There's too much to do!"

"I am not going over to wake up two grown ass men. They'll be fine. I'm sure Destiny will get them up eventually, even if she is super pissed."

Eventually is not good enough, and Rachel's prepared to throw a full-on tantrum. Luckily for everyone, Bekah shows up and distracts them with the news that her grandmother just called to say that she's meeting them at the salon to pay for everyone's hair.

"I think she probably forgot to buy a present." Bekah just shrugs and drops her phone into the pocket of her shorts. Her hair is still wet as well, but at least she has clothes on. Rachel glances at the clock beside her bed and sees that they have to meet the florist in less than half an hour. Fantastic.

They meet with the florist to finalize and approve the arrangements, and the second Rachel sees the bouquets, she basically wants to burst into tears. But she made her dad promise not to cry, so she won't, either. Or at least she's going to try really hard not to. But just seeing that makes it all seem _real, _and she can't believe there are just a few hours until she'll be _married._

She calls Noah after they leave the florist and leaves him a pretty nasty message that basically says if he doesn't wake up and call her back immediately, she's going to cause him a slow and painful death that he certainly will not appreciate. Not that he would appreciate _any_ kind of death, but she needs to make sure it's effective.

She can't get Destiny to answer the phone, either, which is extremely frustrating. She wants to go over to their house and just bang on the door until someone lets her in, but they have salon appointments at noon, and Santana assures her that that doesn't leave ample time for murder. So she texts Noah, Destiny, _and _Finn about ten times each begging someone to call her back.

She finally gets a call when they're at the salon, but Bekah has to answer it because Rachel's nails are under the dryer, and she's not about to mess up a wedding day manicure. She listens, though, as Bekah snaps at Noah and tells him he's a jackass and that Rachel's "super pissed," and finally she just tells Bekah to hold the phone to her ear, so she can give him firsthand knowledge of how mad she is.

"You better have a good damn excuse for just now calling me back," she snaps the second she's got the phone to her ear.

"I was asleep." He sounds really nervous, and she assumes he's gotten all of her messages. At least he sounds very much awake, though, so that's got to be a plus. "Baby, I'm sorry. We're up, and we got it, okay?"

She honestly doesn't want to fight with him. Not today. But she's stressed to the max, and not even the current mani/pedi is helping. Still, she needs to calm down and be relaxed as possible. Getting into an argument with her fiance isn't going to achieve that.

"Please don't be late," she begs seriously. "And make sure you guys do everything you're supposed to. Please, Noah."

"We will. And I swear we won't be late." She can tell he's serious and also that he's probably hungover and nervous and willing to do or say anything avoid an argument. His voice drops a little and takes on a slightly different tone when he says, "I can't wait to see you today. I love you."

She can't help it. She bites down on her lip and secretly hates him for making it so easy to forgive him. "I love you, too," she says lowly, ignoring the way both Santana and Bekah roll their eyes. Still, she can't just let him off that easily. "Your nana's here," she says slyly, loud enough so that his grandmother can hear it from her seat a few feet away. "Do you want to talk to her?"

"What? No." She knows Noah hates talking to his grandmother on the phone because it usually turns into an hour-long conversation with various lectures mixed in. They don't have time for an hour-long phone conversation today, but he should at least have a taste. And Nana's already heard her offer because she's smiling and holding out her hand expectantly.

"Okay, here she is," Rachel says quickly. "Love you." Then she leans her head away so that Bekah can take the phone to her grandmother. Bekah shoots her a little conspirator smile that lets her know that she's fully aware that this is just punishment and then moves over to the chairs by the windows.

The salon visit takes forever.

Of course, Rachel doesn't mind too much because they've actually scheduled plenty of time for this part. And even though all the pampering isn't doing much to calm her nerves, it's still the best case scenario. And when they're finished, they all look great with freshly manicured nails and beautiful hair. Rachel tries to step in and pay the bill, but she's basically shooed away by Noah's grandmother who pulls out a credit card and blocks her view of the cash register.

She has to meet with Rabbi Greenburg for a few minutes, so she goes to the temple alone, while Santana and Bekah go to meet Finn at the banquet hall and check on the reception setup. She's known Rabbi Greenburg since she was ten, and she's always liked him. He's always been nice to her and accepting of her family, so as much as she's still not totally in love with the whole Ohio wedding thing, she _is_ glad that someone she knows and trusts is officiating.

The counseling session goes well. It's the third one she's been to this week, the first one she's been to by herself, and she's actually really thankful for it. She gets all the basic information about how marriage is sacred and how she shouldn't enter into it lightly, everything she already knows. But she appreciates the opportunity to have all of her questions answered, and she thanks the rabbi for being available for them and for officiating.

Afterward, she goes go to the sanctuary to check things there. The florist is there, bringing in the main floral arrangements, and the chuppah has already been set up at the front. She wants to cry looking at that, too, and she has a feeling that she's going to be a mess in a matter of hours. Luckily, her parents are there to oversee things, and they find her and keep her from making too much of a fool out of herself.

"Everything looks so pretty," she tells them, and really, she couldn't have asked for anything better because everything is absolutely lovely. She's just an emotional wreck, and she really just wants to go home with her dads and have lunch on the deck one more time, just her and them, but there's no time for that.

"It really does. Just beautiful."

"Have you seen Noah?" She's almost afraid to ask.

"We saw him at the reception hall. Santana and Bekah just got there as we were leaving."

"How did he look? Is he really hungover? He didn't get in until 7:30 this morning!" She might not want to disclose the details of her own last night of singlehood to her fathers, but she has no problem tattling on Noah.

"He's fine. Finn looks a little ill, though."

Rachel's hand goes to her forehead. "Oh, god."

"Honey, they'll be fine." Her dad seems almost amused when he pats her back reassuringly, so it calms her down just a little.

They take her to the cleaners to pick up the dresses after that. She had them shipped from New York, but they needed professional pressing by the time they reached Ohio. Rachel hopes they look alright now because the last thing she needs right now is a wardrobe disaster.

But an hour later, she's in a makeshift dressing room getting her makeup done, and she's finally starting to calm down a little bit. The dresses are hanging up, looking perfectly pressed and ready to be worn, and her hair's getting a touch-up done by Santana and a curling iron. Santana's mother is doing their makeup, and she's cracking jokes and trying to lighten the mood, something Rachel's never really seen from her. It's nice, though, and she really appreciates her helping out. She _could _do her own makeup, but it's much easier and nicer to have someone else do it. Besides, her hands would probably be shaking too much to even hold the mascara wand.

She gets teary-eyed again when she sees the bridesmaids dresses in full effect, even though she's already seen them both on before. It's different now, though, with the hair and the makeup and the shoes. They both look so pretty, and she really can't believe how much she loves these girls. The photographer's there, taking candid shots of the various getting ready stages. He jokes with them about having to wait on the bride, and it's true because they're both ready to go, and Rachel's still sitting in a chair sipping a giant cup of water and trying not to smudge her lipstick.

It's basically over, though, when she actually gets in her dress.

Someone's moved a full-length mirror into the room, so she stands in front of it as Bekah and Santana's mom try to work out the laces in the back. Santana's too busy texting someone to help, but she looks up and catches Rachel's eye in the mirror and smiles. It feels very similar to the way it did the very first time she tried on this dress, but it's even more somehow. Rachel really feels like she can't breathe, and there's too many emotions welling up inside of her to even attempt making sense of anything. She just can't believe she's actually here and that this is actually happening.

They do a lot of pictures after that- of her by herself, of all three girls, of them paired up. It seems to go on forever, and as much as Rachel loves having her picture taken, she's sort of exhausted by the end of it all. And she's not exactly looking forward to the fact that there will be even _more _pictures taken _after _the ceremony. Regardless, she's glad for the break she gets when she goes back to the dressing room.

Her dads come in, see her completely ready for the first time, and it's impossible to stop the tears then. Rachel herself forces herself not to cry because Mrs. Lopez will likely beat her to death if she has to redo all of this, but she doesn't try to stop her dad this time. She also doesn't try to stop her other father from looking at her like he can't believe she's actually this grown up.

She hugs them both, and then when her dad actually looks like the welled up eyes might turn into real tears, she squeezes each of their hands. "You weren't even this upset when I moved to New York."

"There was a chance you might still come back then."

Mrs. Lopez has to fix her mascara, but luckily she does so without any sort of physical violence.

Various people come in and out after that. Santana and Bekah are running in and out as well, and several of Rachel's relatives stop in to say hello and wish her luck and tell her how pretty she looks. Some of her friends show up, too. Brittany and Mercedes both came in specifically for the wedding, and Tina already lives here. Rachel saw all of them the night before, but they stop in to see her before the wedding and fawn over her in a way she never would have believed a few years ago. They aren't her best friends in the world or anything, but they all keep in touch from time to time, and she's really happy that they're here for her today. Destiny comes in and stays awhile, and Finn joins them a little while later. He looks nervous but not actually hungover or sick. The tux looks really nice, so she's thankful for that. They had to rent from Lima, and she was worried about not being involved in every aspect of the fittings. They're nice, though, so that's one less thing she has to worry about.

Before long, though, it's late, and Alayna, the wedding planner, is standing in the dressing room telling them that they've got five minutes left. Rachel's never felt more nervous about anything in her entire life. Everyone's gone now except for Santana and Bekah, and they both hug her and tell her to calm down and breathe. They all do last minute touch-ups to their hair and makeup, and then they follow Alayna to the holding area.

Rachel can't see what's going on when the music starts. They're having a relatively small, Reform ceremony, so a lot of the more Orthodox traditions aren't included. Their wedding party is small as well (and uneven, something Rachel spent days convincing herself was alright, even though Noah said he didn't want anyone else in it). But the music seems to carry on forever before Alayna tells them they're ready. Bekah goes first, then Santana, and then Rachel has to close her eyes for a second and tell herself not to pass out before it's her turn.

The entire sanctuary is full, but Rachel really can't focus on anything except for the fact that Noah's looking at her in a way she's never seen before. He's watching her, and she wonders if any of the things going through her head are going through his as well. She wonders if he's nervous or in disbelief or if he's experiencing any of the other number of emotions she is. He just looks almost in awe. She gives him the tiniest of smiles, and he returns it. They're personal smiles, just for each other. She really doesn't even register that anyone else is there.

And then when she finally makes it to the chuppah, he gives her a real smile, and she forgets all about being nervous.

The ceremony is relatively short. The rabbi leads the prayers and the blessings; they do the wine ceremony, the musical interludes, the ketubah. They exchange vows and rings, and before Rachel even has time to process all of it, the sound of breaking glass brings her back to reality, and she's being kissed for the first time as a married woman.

Married.

Two minutes later, she's got him alone, and he's kissing her again. Her head feels full and blank all at once. She knows he's got to be feeling something close to the same thing, and it takes every bit of control that she has to put her hands on his shoulders and pull out of the kiss.

He's just staring at her. He's got one hand low on her back, and the other is resting against her neck. His thumb is brushing over her jaw, and she asks him what he's thinking because she really wants to know.

"I'm trying to memorize you," he says, his eyes on her face but not on her own eyes. "Right now. Because it's seriously the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."

Her chest swells. It literally feels like something inside of it is about to explode, and she's having one of those weird moments when she can't believe any of this is real. She can't even believe _he's _real sometimes.

"Noah." His name is really the only thing that makes sense on her tongue right now, and she moves her arms to his neck and hugs him. She wants to be as close to him as she can possibly be, and she really never wants to be further away than she is right now.

He just hugs her. She's on her tiptoes even though she's in heels, and both of his arms are around her waist. She knows he wants to feel her this close, and really, she just wants to maybe stay right here like this forever. She likes hugging him, she always has. She feels so _safe _like this, and she really can't even explain it.

"I wish my mom was here."

She has to close her eyes then because she's been trying really hard all day not to think about and wish the same thing. "I do, too," she whispers. If she tries to say anything else, she's going to choke on the words.

"She'd be so fucking happy right now."

Rachel nods because she doesn't trust her voice at the moment. She can feel the shaky breath he takes, and she knows not to look at him. If she looks at him right now, he's going to start crying, and then she's definitely going to start crying. So she just hugs him and runs one of her hands over the back of his neck and through the hair there.

She doesn't know how long they stay like that, but eventually, he pulls back a little bit, and they look at each other. There's a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he smiles as he slides his hands up her arms and over the lace of the cap sleeves at her shoulders. "I really love you."

"I know." She smiles, too, and doesn't try to stop him when he leans back down to kiss her again. She's so happy right now, and everything just feels perfect. She can feel the cool metal of his ring when he cups her face to tilt her head to a better angle, and realizing that just about makes her dizzy. This is really just one of those moments that she never wants to lose, and she tries to commit every second of it to memory.

Eventually, though, it has to end. They have to finish their pictures, and then they have a reception to attend. She'd rather stay right here and not move, but it's not possible. So she carefully pulls away and tells him they need to go.

"Not yet."

She doesn't really argue or fight him too much when he moves down to kiss her again. She likes it too much to find too many reasons why he shouldn't, but when he makes no move to stop, she finally has to.

"We really need to go." His face is just a few inches from hers still, and she doesn't miss the way he's staring down at her, past her face and down at all of her. She knows that look. "Noah."

"You're so beautiful." He still doesn't make eye-contact, and she feels her skin heat up just a little.

"The sooner we finish the pictures, the sooner we can go to the reception." He finally looks at her. "And the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave..."

She doesn't have to clarify. Her meaning is more than clear, and she knows that he gets the message because he gives her a somewhat signature smirk that only ever means one thing. Not that she blames him, of course, because she really can't wait to leave the reception, either, and they haven't even arrived yet.

He kisses her again, and this time his hands slide all the way down her back until they're resting well below her waistline. She doesn't care, though- she likes the way his hands feel on her ass, and she's never really made a secret of it. The kiss goes a little deeper than the previous slow, sweet ones, but that's okay, too.

"I'm gonna make sure this is best night of your life," he promises quietly, his lips still right against her own.

She's not lying when she says, "It already is."

…

A/N: Okay... So here's the deal. I don't think a lot of people are interested in this story anymore (three reviews last chapter). I really appreciate everyone who _is _reviewing because it really does mean a lot. I'm going to finish this story for those who are still interested, but I'm not sure how much else I'll be writing. I'm not very interested in the show anymore, and after this weekend, all I can think of when Glee pops in my head is a great big ole' _fuck you _because, duh, my Sam love is no secret. And seriously, what the fuck. Still, I've got ideas that are floating, and I may put them on paper. I may not. I don't know, at the moment I'm just not very motivated. But if you don't see much other writing from me (like I said, I'm going to finish _this), _you'll know the reason. I really appreciate everyone who's still reading and reviewing, and thanks a ton!

(I'm sure I'll end up writing more, but right now I'm just so damn frustrated with that whole stupid show that I just need to vent...)


	11. Chapter 11

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 11**

_A/N: This chapter switches to a different POV. _

...

It's seriously freaking _stupid _how happy he is.

Logically, he knows that probably makes him a pussy, but so what? He's happy as shit, and he doesn't really give a shit what anyone else thinks about it. And it's crazy because he didn't really expect to feel any different after the wedding than he did before because basically nothing changed.

Except it did.

Or maybe it didn't really, but it _feels _different. His whole _life _feels different now, and it's only been three days. And what's even more fucked up is that it seems like he gets happier and happier every single freaking second. It's crazy. Seriously.

But he doesn't care. Because life is really fucking good right now, and he's just going to enjoy every single second of it. He knows from experience that shit gets real too fast too often, and because of that, he's the last person in the world to take anything for granted.

Specifically a gorgeous girl sleeping with her head on the pillow next to his and a ring on her finger that basically means _everything._

She's his wife. They're married. She's got his name (_legally- _otherwise? _"Professionally, I have to keep Rachel Berry because my dads' named me that specifically to fit on a marquee, and I can't disappoint them.") _Whatever, though. He doesn't even care. She's his wife, and they get to do everything married people get to do without feeling guilty. Okay, so he's never actually felt guilty, but he's heard about it from his grandmother more than one time, and he's glad to finally get her to shut up about living in sin and whatever else she likes to make up in her head. (Of course, now she'll be on his ass _big time _about having kids, and he's gonna have to run interference and shut that shit down before she starts calling Rachel on the sly and pressuring her.)

He doesn't know what time it is when he wakes up, but he knows it's got to legitimately be morning because the entire stateroom is filled with bright light coming through the balcony window. It's so weird to wake up to actual sunlight instead of a screeching alarm. Their apartment in New York gets like basically zero natural light, and the tiny bit that it _does _get is pretty pointless because they have to keep the curtains closed pretty much all the time. They haven't closed the drapes _once _since they've been on this ship, and it's pretty damn awesome.

Part of him doesn't want to leave the bed (seriously, they've been having trouble with that ever since they got on this damn ship), but the shower in their room is _ridiculous, _and thinking about that wins out. He really wants to wake Rachel up and make her join him, but she looks so exhausted that he just leaves her because he's been keeping her up pretty late (hell yeah) and she probably needs the sleep. He's pretty fucking sure he could _live _in this shower, and he gets pissed off just thinking about going home to the crappy pressure and virtually nonexistent hot water in their apartment. The hot water _never _runs out here, and he legitimately spends forty-five minutes just standing there under the spray and letting it run over him.

When his skin starts to wrinkle, it's a hard choice between waking Rach up for round nine-hundred and ninety-four (he's lost count, which is fucking awesome) and waking her up for breakfast. Fuck it, he can do both. He can get her off and then get her to the buffet, and they can eat til they're about to puke because besides the shower, the food on this ship is the best thing ever.

He's never been on a cruise before, and he wasn't too down for it when Rachel suggested it. He likes boats- but like small ones that you can take out on the lake with some beer and a fishing rod. Rachel hates fishing and won't go near it (unsurprisingly), but back in Lima, he used to get into a bunch of laid back country shit with his friends. Trips to the lake were basically the highlight of everything because there's really shit all else to do around there. So yeah, he likes that kind boat and that kind of water. But this is completely different, and even though Rachel tried to make it sound like the best thing ever, he wasn't totally sold. But there's a reason she's the smart one because this is awesome. Not that they've actually _done _a whole lot. They've basically spent all of their time either at one of the restaurants or in this room, but he's sure as hell not complaining. Maybe today they can venture out a little bit, hit the pool or something. Or maybe not. He doesn't really care.

He wakes her up the best way he knows how. She smiles all sleepy and sexy, and it's so fucking hot that he really can't control himself, so it's a good thing he doesn't have to. Their sex life has always been pretty damn good, but these last few days have been fucking _crazy. _Like seriously, it's probably dumb because they've been together for so long, but they've never really just been able to do it whenever the hell they want because they've never been _alone. _They've always either been around parents or roommates or sisters or _something, _and it's pretty ridiculous how nice it is to just be alone. Even if it's just for a week, it's still awesome. This is also the first vacation they've ever taken together, minus a week in Maine a couple of summers ago, but that didn't really count because her dads took them and Bekah, and alone time wasn't exactly easy to come by. So all of this is new and really, _really _awesome.

Rachel's been on a ton of these things growing up because her dads are fucking stupid for her and have always spoiled the shit out of her. They're probably to blame for about ninety-nine percent of every part of her that's crazy and demanding and just totally unreal, but it's cool because they seriously love her. And, for some ungodly reason, they actually love him, too, which is surprising because there was a time when they weren't exactly his biggest fans. But they've come around, and they know him now and trust him and they believe in him in a way most people don't and never have. They're basically the closest things he has to parents, and he'd do pretty much anything for them.

They talked to him the other night at the wedding- he expected some _if you hurt our daughter, we'll kill you, _but what he got was totally different. He got, "We're very proud of the man you've become," and, "Thank you for loving her."

All of that basically blew his mind. _Still _blows his mind. Because seriously? They're a huge part of the reason that he is the person he is today. He would have totally fallen apart and lost it if they hadn't been there to help him with basically _everything _when his mom died. And they're crazy to thank him for loving her (pretty much easier than breathing) when he should be like kissing their feet or something for _making _her. (He won't, though, because he's still not sure on the specifics of _how _she was made- he's always been kind of shit at science. Plus, he doesn't understand why Rachel acts like no one knows which one of her dads is her biological father because, duh. But don't try to tell her that because she will get super pissed and snap that you can't prove it and, on occasion, call you racist). But anyway, her dads are fucking awesome, and that's why he'll never, ever do anything to like disrespect them or anything because they're his family and have been for a long time.

They actually make it to the pool that day, and it's so fucking hot outside that he can't even pretend to humor her when she says she wants to lay out. So they spend a few hours in the pool drinking at the swim-up bar. It's barely midday, but it's vacation, so apparently it's perfectly acceptable. Everyone around them seems to think so, and they actually get to know some people who seem pretty cool. There are a few other couples who seem close to their age and even another honeymooning couple, and they spend the entire afternoon taking shots and laughing at the comedian on the pool deck stage. But Rachel's a crazy freaking lightweight, so he has to watch her and make sure she doesn't like _drown _or something because he's pretty sure that'd put them in the record books for worst honeymoon ever.

By 4:00, she's saying some super dirty shit in his ear, so they promise the others to catch up later and head back to their cabin. She throws her wet swimsuit on the floor, and if she were anywhere close to sober, she'd pick it up because she hates wet towels and that sort of thing on the floor. As it is, she's wasted and he doesn't give a shit, so he just lets her yank his off and throw it down, too. She tells him she wants to fuck on the balcony off their room, and what the hell because she never says shit like that. She apparently wants to be fucked over the railing, and he puts an end to that conversation because she's not sober enough to make sure she doesn't go overboard, and he _cannot _be responsible for that shit. So she pouts for a second after he says no, but then he lets her push him into one of the chairs and doesn't stop her from climbing into his lap. He's about ninety percent sure that no one can see them, but he doesn't express that other ten percent concern to her because knowing she obviously doesn't give a fuck that people can at least definitely _hear _them is totally hot.

And this is the kind of shit that will never, ever happen in New York, so he's set on just enjoying it and making the most of it now. Part of him (a _big _part of him) wishes they could act like this all the time and just be normal honeymooners, but they've got a sixteen year old at home who has no problem throwing shit at the wall and screaming the second she hears basically _anything. _And seriously, it's not even funny how quick being reminded of your little sister's presence can kill the fucking mood.

Later that night, they've both napped and sobered up, and he wakes up to find Rachel once again looking through the pictures on the camera. She's done it like fifty times already, and he doesn't know what the fuck she's looking for anymore because seriously, _it's the same pictures. _That doesn't stop her from smiling when she notices he's awake and being all, "I love this picture!"

She climbs back onto the bed and sits on her knees, turning the camera so he can see. It's one of them and Finn and Santana after the ceremony when her dad was taking pictures at the same time as the photographer, and he doesn't know where the hell Bekah is. But he specifically remembers taking this picture because Santana couldn't keep a straight face, and when he finally asked her what the hell her issue was, she just rolled her eyes and said, "I'm sorry. Am I the only one who realizes that we're like the most fucked up wedding party in history?" And then they all kind of looked at each other, and the photographer looked confused as shit. But whatever, it's not like she was lying.

Rachel giggles and turns it back to camera mode. Then she leans down to where he's laying and holds it over their heads to take a new picture. They look at it after, and it's so random. Her hair is a fucking tangled mess, and it's probably pretty easy to guess that he's naked, but it's still so damn cute. He doesn't know when he ever started referring to pictures as _cute, _but whatever. He grabs the camera from her and sets it on the floor before rolling over and trapping her beneath him. He kisses her deep and dirty, and he knows she likes it because it takes approximately thirty seconds before she's reaching down and trying to take her panties off. It's like they _cannot _stop fucking. Basically, best thing ever.

They end up in one of the ship's theatres after a late dinner, and it's open mic night for the passengers (it really turns out to be amped up karaoke with occasional original stuff thrown in). They sit down on some couches with one of the couples they were hanging out with earlier, and it's fun to just sit there and have a few drinks and relax. Of course, since alcohol's basically the only thing _not _included in the price of this cruise, he's starting to get a little bit worried about what the bill's gonna look like when they dock. But oh, well. They can splurge a little bit. And, of course, it only takes about half a drink before Rachel's dying to get on stage.

The thing is, he never gets to really hear her sing anymore. Well, that's a lie- he hears her rehearsing and stuff like that all the time, but he never gets to see her _perform. _When they were kids and he got to (_had _to) see her and listen to her all the time, it kind of bordered on annoying sometimes. But maybe that's just because he didn't know how to fucking appreciate it. Obviously he always knew she was a good singer, but hearing it day in and day out kind of made him immune to it. Now he wishes he could hear her all the time like he used to because he misses it.

She's fucking amazing. Like seriously. He's not even being biased (well, maybe a little), but she's obviously better than like every single other person who's been up there put together. She's got the whole place mesmerized singing some song that probably no one else in the room knows. But whatever, she's just like the best singer in the world, and you'd have to be fucking deaf not to know that. She looks so damn happy up there, and he knows it's because she was seriously _born _to be on a stage. It sucks that she doesn't have that right now, and yeah, he kind of feels like shit that she turned down an opportunity. But it's gonna happen for her, he knows it. There's not any kind of doubt in his mind that she's going to get her break and that one day she's gonna _own _New York City.

After she's done, people scream like she's some star or something, and she smiles that crazy bright smile that she used to have all the time and only randomly gets anymore. She's practically like skipping back to their couch, and she falls on top of him the second she gets there. He high-fives her and kisses her cheek before she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes. Micah, the chick they're sitting with, tells her how great she sounded and asks if she's been singing a long time. So Rachel launches into her life story and tells Micah and her boyfriend AJ all about being a musical theatre major and trying to make it as an actress, and for once, she doesn't sound totally put out when she tells them that she's still waiting for it to happen. Then she keeps going and starts telling them about _him _and about how he's a comp major and an "extremely talented guitarist." Apparently AJ plays, too, and that turns into a whole thing of them making plans to jam later outside on one of the decks later.

Turns out, this kid is really fucking good.

They both have their guitars out, and they're sitting by the pool sometime after midnight just messing around. AJ's really _good. _He says he's never really had lessons or anything and that he mostly just fucks around, but dude's got some serious talent. There's like a whole group of people sitting around listening to them, and it's cool. It's pretty mellow and chill, and people are just like sipping beers and kind of getting into it. Some people are yelling out requests like they think they just magically have every song in the world in their back pocket. They do have a lot, though, and people seem to think they're pretty talented.

It's got to be close to 1:30 when Rachel comes over and leans down to tell him that she's about to pass out. He starts to get up and leave with her, but she tells him to stay and that it's fine. She looks really fucking pretty right now- her hair's all windblown, and the day at the pool means she's got that freshly tanned look under her sundress. Fuck, he doesn't know how he ended up this damn lucky. She kisses him and tells him goodnight, and then she whispers, "I love you," right in his ear.

When he finally makes it back to the room, it's after three, and he tries really hard not to make a lot of noise coming in because he knows Rach is probably sleeping.

He's right. She's asleep wearing some kind of purple slip thing that's just not really fair. She brought all kinds of lingerie on this trip, but they haven't gotten much use out of any of it because, well, they haven't really gotten much use out of _any _kind of clothes. But she's got this thing on now, and it's probably made for sleeping because she looks pretty comfortable laid out under the sheet with half of her hair falling over her cheek and the other half sprawled out over the pillow. Part of him wants to just wake her up, pull that slip thing off of her, and just _take _her because she's so fucking sexy. But another part of him just wants to _look _at her because she's so fucking _beautiful._

He sits down in one of the chairs and just kind of stares at her because she's gorgeous, and the moonlight is bouncing off the water and through the window, and even though it's pretty dark in here, she's still unbelievable. It all makes him think about how she looked a few nights ago at their wedding and how he literally thought he had to be in some kind of dream because that shit just shouldn't be possible. He's never gonna forget that- how she looked walking down the aisle and how he felt knowing that in a few minutes she was going to be his _wife. _No matter what, he's never going to forget any of that because he knows it's always going to be the best memory he's ever had.

Maybe it's thinking about all that, or maybe it's the fact that he's been playing for the last few hours, but he just wants to _write. _He grabs some of the stationery out of the desk and flips on the lamp. He stares at her for a couple of minutes, waiting for inspiration to hit. She's not _always _the subject of his songwriting, but she's usually the subject of his best. It's just down to emotions probably, just because he _feels _more about her than he feels about pretty much anything else. He starts writing, and it's easier than he expects. This is when he really loves writing- when it just _flows _like nothing.

He works for awhile, really no clue how long- and then he picks his guitar up and starts quietly strumming away, trying to find the right chords to match up with the lyrics. He hums along, tightens a couple of his strings, and alternates between that and scribbling down notes in the margins.

And then Rachel wakes up.

He's not surprised. Not really. He's playing guitar in the middle of the night, and even though she can be a super heavy sleeper sometimes, it's still not shocking that she wakes up. She raises her head and pushes the hair away from her face as she smiles sleepily at him. "What are you doing?"

"Playing around."

"Are you writing?"

He hums a little noise that doesn't mean anything really, but she apparently takes it as a yes. "Can I hear?"

"It's not finished."

She sits up and rubs at the corner of her eye a little. She still looks half-asleep, but she smiles again, looking way too fucking cute for her own good. "I'll watch."

"Rach." Then he laughs a little and shakes his head. "I need you to be asleep. That's kinda what it's about."

"Will you wake me up later?"

"Yeah, baby."

She lays back down, and he keeps one eye on her as he plucks at his strings a little more. He can tell when she actually falls asleep because he knows all of her breathing patterns by heart. So he writes about that. He writes about how her breath gets shorter before it gets deeper, and he writes about that little noise that she makes in her throat that sounds almost like a freaking gurgle or something. She's just cute, and it's easy to just wrap her up in a song.

When they wake up, the ship's docked, and they're in the Bahamas.

Rachel says she wants breakfast and that she wants to go lie on the beach, but not before he makes love to her. And he lets her call it that shit because whatever. Sometimes that's what it is. He's not an idiot- he knows there's a difference, and if she wants it like that, he's gonna give it to her like that. Shit, he'll pretty much do anything she wants whenever she wants, and he's pretty sure she knows it. She gets breakfast and the beach, too, and he spends half the day saying dirty shit in her ear and the other half trying to dodge the question when she (finally) asks him what he was doing the night before the wedding until seven o'clock in the goddamn morning.

Look, he's not an idiot. He knows that honesty is the best policy, but he also knows that leaving a couple of details out is not the same as lying. And if it helps everyone involved feel better, then that's just perfect. So he's not going to tell her about the strippers because whatever. He seriously doesn't even know how they ended up at that place, and it's not like anything _happened _anyway. It was just dumb. He doesn't even _like _strippers, so whatever. So he doesn't let that part slip. Instead, he blames most of it on Finn and the rest of their dumbass friends who thought drinking all that fucking ton was a good idea or something. And whatever. It was kind of fun, but still, he's not taking the blame for all that even if she's pretty much stuck with him now for better or for worse (technically, she could still bail, but it'd be hella expensive now).

By the end of the week, he's way too used to having her all to himself, and pretty much the _last _thing he wants to do is step off that ship.

But real life is waiting, and they have to get back. They have a teenager to take care of and jobs to get to, and it basically sucks ass. But there's not a whole hell of a lot they can do about it. They say bye to the people they've been hanging out with and promise to exchange pictures on Facebook and all that shit. Mostly, everything just sucks because the week went by way too fast, and even though he's pretty tired and kind of feels like he could just sleep for a week straight, he's not really ready to be off this boat and back in society.

But that's that.

Bekah's home when they finally get back to the apartment. She's been staying with one of her friends, but she seems weirdly glad to see them when they unlock the door and make it inside. She helps them with the suitcases and then asks them all about the trip. Then she starts telling them all about _her _week and how she saw Tina Fey at the Apple store two days ago. She's talking like fifty miles an hour, and he's pretty damn sure she picked that shit up from Rachel. He only really half-listens and has the rest of his attention on the stack of mail that they brought up with them. It's mostly just bills, but there are a couple of envelopes that look like they probably have cards or something- probably congratulations on your wedding or something like that. He passes them off to Rachel, and she opens them and goes through them before carefully adding them to the stack of cards they've been collecting for a month now.

"Oh, this was on the mat!" Bekah grabs a manilla envelope off the counter and passes it over to Rachel. Why the hell somebody's leaving shit on the mat is a good enough question- but how the fuck did somebody even get up there? Seriously, this building's security is _shit._

Bekah starts bugging him, asking him what the hell they brought her because, "You went to the Bahamas, I better have a present," and he shoves her head when she holds out an expectant hand. Obviously they bought her some shit, but he'll make her sweat it at least for a couple of minutes.

She tries to hit him, but he grabs her hand and stops her, then he kind of tugs her around until she's trapped. He used to pull that exact move on her all the time when she was like seven, and she would scream and and kick and somehow knew even then to aim for the nads. She's a lot bigger now, but her defense tactic is apparently still the same. So they fuck around for a couple of minutes because she obviously seems to think that just because she's bigger than she used to be, she's somehow gonna win. When clearly that's never going to happen.

But then they both get cut totally off because Rachel lets out some kind of huge dramatic gasp that means she needs everyone's total and complete attention.

"This is the casting director I read for a couple of months ago," she tells them, and her eyes are all wide and super serious. "The perfect pitch one!" Her voice gets a little higher on the second part, and she holds up some kind of hand-scribbled note. He just stares at her, and so does Bekah because neither one of them knows what the fuck she's talking about. Well, he kind of remembers her going on about some dude telling her she had perfect pitch, but he didn't really understand what the big deal was because she's been knowing that shit her whole life. "He sent me a script. He wants me to audition for him!"

Bekah looks totally confused, and good thing she's there to ask for the explanation he wants to know but has enough sense not to ask for. "You go on auditions like all the time..." Okay, so maybe she's just kind of stating the obvious, but whatever.

Rachel gives her this _look, _and if he didn't plan on getting laid in a couple of hours, he might laugh. But yeah, he's not a dumbass, so he just doesn't say anything.

"He's specifically seeking me out... He _wants _me to audition. This is real!"

She kind of screeches the last part, and he has no fucking clue what _this is real _even means, but it must mean something super good because Rachel looks like she's about to have some kind of heart attack or something. She's seriously _thisclose _to freaking out, he can tell. So he just smiles and tells her how awesome it is because clearly it _must _be awesome.

Because shit, anything that makes her look like _that _has to be.

…

A/N: Sooooo there's a little Puck for you.

And wow, you guys, I seriously didn't realize that many people were even reading the story, so thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and offered encouragement last chapter. It's seriously amazing, and I'm glad so many people are still enjoying this. I already said I'd finish this, but I also said I'd probably prove myself a liar and end up writing other stuff, too. And yeah, I've got like four different things floating around in there that I might get down sooner rather than later. I just wish this show wasn't so damn stupid, but... oh, well I guess. Thanks again!

Back to Rachel!


	12. Chapter 12

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 12**

...

Rachel's hands are literally shaking as she fills out the intake application.

She's sitting in a real waiting room at a real casting agency, and it's all so different from the warehouse open calls that she's used to attending that she's not even really sure how to act. She's only been to a handful of auditions that didn't require standing in line for hours and battling a makeshift cattle call of other talent. This one is different because she's actually been _invited _here, and this is the first time she's ever been to an audition like this that wasn't a callback from an open call.

_Puckerman, Rachel._

It still feels weird to write it, even though she's been purposely writing checks everywhere she goes (something she never does for _anything _besides rent) just so she can sign her name. But it's still strange, and even stranger because she writes _Rachel Berry _on the next line beside 'preferred name.' Sorry, but she just doesn't think that Rachel Puckerman has the same star quality ring to it, so she's going to stay a Berry- at least for the stage. Still, she doesn't really see herself giving up her checkbook any time soon, either.

She's alone in the waiting room, and she starts getting antsy waiting for someone to call her back. She tries not to fidget because she's pretty sure there's a security camera in here, and on the off-chance that someone's watching her, she doesn't want to appear nervous. Instead, she pulls out her phone and starts flipping through it just to give herself something to do. At least it keeps her hands busy and stops them from shaking so visibly.

Finally, though, the door opens, and the same casting director she saw a few months ago sticks his head through and says, "Come on back."

She's a little surprised, mostly because she expected this to go more doctor's office style, with a receptionist or something coming to escort her back to a private office. She doesn't expect the casting director himself to show up and lead her, and the fact that he doesn't even attempt any sort of standard greeting makes her a little bit nervous. Still, she gets up and follows him down the hallway to his office and sits down awkwardly in the chair across from him when he moves around his desk.

And then he just looks at her.

It's highly intimidating because she honestly has no idea what she's even doing here. She's never been on an audition anything similar to this, and the way he's just staring at her kind of makes her think she's supposed to be doing something besides just sitting there being awkward.

"I have my resume." She tries to keep the nerves out of her voice as she reaches into her bag and pulls out her resume and headshot and passes them over. The director (Mitch Arringsmith, he's introduced himself before) takes the papers and tosses them onto a random stack on his desk without so much as a glance.

"So. Rachel Berry. What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

"Excuse me?" She just stares at him because she honestly has no idea what to say to that or even why he would ask it. She's not even sure what he means, but she's almost certain that this is not the way auditions are supposed to go.

"The worst thing? Or have you never done anything wrong in your whole life?" She must look confused because his face of stone seriousness turns slightly amused. "I could see that."

"I don't know what you mean," she says honestly. She's uncomfortable, and she finds it ironic that she'd rather be in a cattle call audition than this one right now.

"Drugs? Alcohol? Sex?" He doesn't even flinch. "Something crazy in your past?"

"I..." She has _no _idea what to say, and she's really starting to feel uneasy.

"Have you ever even been high?"

She just stares at him, and then she finally swallows. She could refuse to answer, but surely there's a point to all this. "I have," she defends quietly. "Just marijuana..."

"You get drunk?"

"Sometimes."

"You're not still a virgin, are you?"

She's pretty sure her mouth actually drops open then, and she doesn't have a clue what to say to that. Mostly, she's just offended, and she finally finds the words to let him know. "I don't think that's any of your business. Why are asking me these things?"

"Because I'm trying to picture as my lead, and it's really fucking hard when you look like a member of the goddamn Brady Bunch or something."

She could point out that she doesn't resemble a Brady at all, but she keeps her mouth shut. Instead, she just looks at him and does her very best to appear as corrupted as possible. It's difficult, of course, because she really _hasn't _done too many bad things.

"This show is about a heroin addict. Do you know how fucked up you get when you're hooked on that shit? Seriously fucked up. I don't know if you can make it real."

Rachel doesn't know much about the show. She has three pages of sides, and from what she can gather, the lead is basically straight drama and seems pretty annoying. She could tell it was about some sort of addict, but this is the first she's actually hearing anything about it.

She has no idea how to respond to his latest accusation, so she swallows and sits up a little straighter. "I have my music selection."

It sounds stupid even to her own ears, and she knows he must think she's an idiot because he actually rolls his eyes. "I already know you can sing. I want to know if you can act. Or if you're even remotely capable of understanding this kind of material."

"I've never been addicted to anything." Honesty suddenly seems like the best policy. "I never really got in trouble when I was a child. I've only ever been in serious relationships, and I probably wouldn't even know how to _do _a one-night stand. So no, I'm probably not able to relate to anything in that script."

"So why are you here?"

"Because you asked me here." She doesn't care if her voice is starting to get a little hateful- maybe he likes that. "And because acting is called acting because it's about portraying yourself as someone else. Just because I've never done those things myself doesn't mean I can't make it believable, and if you can't get past the fact that I'm a nice girl, you probably shouldn't have asked me to audition."

Mitch just looks at her. She knows she's blown it, and really, she's rarely this rude to _anyone, _let alone someone who has the ability to give her a job. She feels some of the brattiness she's spent years trying to bury creeping back up, but she really can't help it. She doesn't like this man's attitude, he's making her seriously uncomfortable, and she can't force herself to care about being rude to someone who's basically just told her that she's incapable of playing a part that isn't identical to Rachel Berry.

"This is off-off," he says pointedly, like she doesn't already know this. "Ten people are probably going to see this show, including your mom and your boyfriend. Why the hell would you even want to do it?"

"First, I have two dads. Second, I'm married. And the reason I want to do it is because I'm sick of singing in a restaurant, and I miss the stage so badly, I can't stand it. I deserve a shot."

She sounds even more bratty than before, but she also doesn't care. This man hasn't been at all nice to her, and if he's going to be an ass, so will she. She's not in the mood to get jerked around by some casting director on a power trip who thinks he can mess with her mind and ask her inappropriate questions just because he's casting some low budget show in a sixty seat theatre.

When he passes her a copy of the side, though, and says, "Prove me wrong," she makes up her mind to do just that.

She's ridiculously tired by the time she makes it back to her apartment, and the fact that her key is jamming in the outside lock really pisses her off. She finally makes it into the building and up the stairs, but she basically wants to cry by the time she's actually entering her own apartment. She doesn't even know why. She knows that this industry is full of assholes, but she's never really felt the brunt of it until now. She's pissed off and upset because what was supposed to be a major opportunity for her (she's never before been _invited _to an audition) pretty much turned into a jackass making fun of her because she's never stuck a needle in her arm or snorted anything up her nose.

There's a guitar lying on the sofa, and she can hear Noah's voice in the kitchen. She drops her purse on the coffee table and moves to the other room where Noah's leaning against the counter with the phone to his ear. He looks annoyed, and from what she can tell, he's arguing with whoever's on the other line. He looks up when she walks in and rolls his eyes, which tells her that he's not amused by whatever conversation he's having.

He pulls a box of granola bars down from the cabinet when he sees Rachel (unsuccessfully) reaching for them. She pulls one out and offers it to him, but he shakes his head, so she opens it for herself. She's in the mood to eat a lot. A _whole _lot. And she doesn't even know why- probably because she's so pissed off.

"I'm not going to put my sister through all this crap again." She starts paying attention to the one-sided conversation while she breaks off half of the granola bar and shoves it into her mouth. "She's been answering those same stupid questions since she was eleven years old. There's nothing new to say."

Rachel looks at him with raised eyebrows, and he just rolls his eyes again and shakes his head.

"No. Look, why can't they just use the old depositions?"

Oh. So it's a legal thing. There are really only two legal issues in their life- custody and wrongful death lawsuits. The custody issue has been worked out for a few years now, so there's probably no way it has anything to do with that. The impending insurance lawsuit is probably much more likely, even though Rachel was beginning to think that was all but forgotten. No one's done much to actively pursue it, but the attorneys have supposedly been working on it for awhile now. Apparently they've finally decided to actually _do _something, but Noah seems less than inclined to participate.

She waits around until he finally hangs up the phone, and then she just looks at him until he offers up the explanation. "They're suing for three million dollars."

Rachel nearly chokes on the last bite of granola. The last lawsuit settled for well into six figures, but it was nowhere near three_ million dollars. _That's just... Rachel really can't even imagine that much money. It's insane.

"They won't get it," he says, shrugging. "Not even close. But I guess they're trying to high ball it for negotiations or something."

"Three million dollars is _crazy."_

"I know. _They're_ fucking crazy. And I don't want to go through all this shit again. Or make Bekah do it all over. Fuck."

She can tell he's really stressed, and he looks away from her the same way he always does whenever he's showing more emotion than he wants to. There are times when she calls him on that, but this isn't one of them. Instead, she just grabs them both waters from the fridge and leans against the counter beside him.

This sort of thing is not usually a normal topic of conversation in their home. They don't talk a lot about money because they don't struggle, and no one really wants to talk about _why _they don't struggle. They also don't usually talk about Anna because everyone just ends up getting depressed. There are a few moments here or there where someone will bring her up or mention something to do with her in passing, but for the most part, it's just not a topic they dwell on a lot.

In a way, it's not fair. Sometimes Rachel feels like they're erasing her memory or something by not talking about her, but it's not like that at all. It's just painful. It bothers her enough to think about it, but she knows it's much worse for Noah and Bekah. Noah will talk about her occasionally, but Bekah _rarely _does. If her mom's brought up at all, she usually finds some way to change the subject or just checks out of the conversation altogether. It's probably worse for her than it is for anyone because she was so young- is _still _so young- and the living situation she's currently in is not at all normal or what her life should ideally be. She should still be living in the split level house on Vine Street in Lima, attending McKinley, and spending her summer babysitting for the neighbors and going to pool parties. But that's not even close to what her life actually is, and while she obviously enjoys New York and her friends here, there's no question that she'd trade it all to be back on Vine Street with her mom if she could.

There's a lot of resentment there, too, not just pain and sadness. Bekah's _angry, _and she has been for a long time. Logically, it's stupid. You can't be mad at someone for dying when clearly they had no control over it. But Bekah was eleven when her mom died- eleven when she was pushed into the hands of a father she'd never known- and barely twelve when she was shoved right back out. So yes, there's a lot of anger there, even more than just the normal teenage angst that god knows she's got plenty of. A lot of it's buried, but on some level, she's mad at a lot- mad at her mother for dying, mad at her father for leaving, and even mad at Noah for never being jerked from one place to another. But she also knows it's dumb, and she knows better than to dwell on it. Her mother couldn't help dying, Noah might not have been jerked from place to place but his life has certainly been uprooted, and her father? Well, sometimes an asshole is just an asshole.

They tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. When he came back, both Bekah and, eventually, Noah tried to see something more in him than they saw before he left the first time. But then he disappeared again. He sent checks pretty regularly at first, but those started tapering off gradually, and by the time the lawsuit money came in, he'd basically stopped sending money altogether. It's never been worth it to pursue, so they've pretty much just written him off. Occasionally, he'll send a birthday card (a week or two late), and he even calls once or twice a year. But they don't hear from him much, and they don't really care. It's just not worth it. Rachel sent a wedding invitation to the last address they had for him, but he didn't show up and they've yet to hear anything from him. So yeah, not worth it.

"How was the audition?"

Noah changes the subject kind of abruptly, but maybe it's not surprising, since there's just been an awkward silence surrounding them for the last couple of minutes. Rachel frowns because she's still pissed off, and part of her thinks that maybe it's not the right time to unload on him. But really, she wants to bitch.

"The casting director was an asshole."

"I thought he liked you? Was your pitch not perfect enough this time?"

"He didn't even let me sing!" Noah looks confused, and really, she can't blame him because why would anyone _invite _her to an audition and then refuse to let her sing? Singing is her _forte! _

"So what did you do?"

"He asked me all these questions about whether I've ever done anything _bad, _and he told me I look too much like a member of the Brady Bunch to make anything believable. He was just a jerk."

"What the fuck?"

"I know!" She screws the lid back on her water bottle and sets it on the counter. "He just made fun of me the whole time, and then he made me read for him and kept telling me that I didn't understand anything I was saying. It was just stupid."

"Fuck him."

She shrugs, mostly because she's annoyed that she let herself get excited over an audition when she should have known not to get her hopes up. She's frustrated, though. She's sick of never having a break, and even though she doesn't regret it, she's starting to wonder if she passed on the one shot she's ever going to get. None of this is what she envisioned when she left Lima to move to New York.

Some days she'd rather just go home.

"I just don't understand why I'm not _good _enough." She says it before she really has a chance to shut herself up. She hates saying things like that out loud because it makes her sound weak, and she really hates sounding weak.

And love her as he might, Noah's never really been one to coddle or pander to insecurities.

So instead of saying something sweet like, _"You're perfect," _or, _"They're idiots for not seeing how awesome you are," _he rolls his eyes. "You know damn well that you're good. Shit, you've been telling that to anyone who would listen your whole life." She narrows her eyes at him because, really, that doesn't sound like a compliment. He doesn't seem to care, though, because he just keeps on talking. "So if those people don't want you, go find somebody who does. Don't stand there whining about it."

He loves her. He does. She keeps repeating that to herself over and over as she tries to think of something to say that won't end in divorce papers. Because seriously? Asshole.

"I work really, really hard," she says as calmly as she can. "And all I ever hear is _no. _You can't understand that, so don't tell me to stop whining when you have no idea how hard this is."

"Stop making excuses. Jesus, Rachel, it's not like you thought this was gonna be easy! You knew exactly what you were walking into. Fuck, nobody just trips over a career- people work for years at that shit before something happens, and sometimes it never does."

"So you think it's never going to happen?"

"I didn't say that. And no, I don't think that. You're gonna be a fucking huge star, and you know it. But there's no point in standing there saying you're not good enough when you know good and damn well that you're fucking _amazing. _And who gives a crap if some douchebag casting agent is an asshole? I'm pretty sure most of them are."

"It's frustrating!"

"I know, baby." He grabs her elbow and pulls her so that she's in front of him, his voice significantly softer. "But I know you, and you're not gonna give up just because shit's a little difficult."

"I'm just mad." She pouts a little, which is maybe not the best thing since he's clearly annoyed with her sympathy-seeking, but oh, well. "He was so mean to me."

"So fuck him."

She turns the pout into a little smile, and she's just about to say something dirty in response when she hears a key in the lock. Noah hears it, too, and they both turn toward the kitchen entry and hear Bekah enter the apartment. Rachel doesn't even know where Bekah's been, and she's willing to bet that Noah is similarly clueless. It doesn't matter, though, because she appears in the kitchen ten seconds later with Pria. They're both dressed in shorts that barely cover their asses and heels that make no sense with the rest of their outfit (but that do, admittedly, look really good).

But from the moment she appears, it's pretty obvious that Bekah wants something.

She smiles sweetly and wraps both arms around Rachel's waist, leaning her head over to rest it on top of Rachel's own. "How was your audition?"

Rachel knows she's up to something, and she doesn't really feel like going into detail about the audition again anyway. So she just shrugs and says, "Guess we'll see," which is cryptic enough to mean just about anything.

But since Bekah's obviously not interested in finding out what _really _went on at the audition anyway, she just kind of dazedly says, "Hopefully something good!"

Rachel looks at Noah who is watching the whole thing suspiciously. He obviously knows that his sister's just trying to play nice because she wants them to do something for her, so he just comes right out and asks. "What do you want?"

Bekah straightens back up and unwinds her arms from around Rachel. She does her best to look innocent, but she's not very good at it. "Nothing," she lies, and it's not even remotely convincing. "I was just checking in."

Rachel doesn't roll her eyes, but it's a little difficult. Noah doesn't even try to hide the fact that he clearly doesn't buy it for a second, and Rachel might find the no bullshit look on his face amusing if she wasn't distracted by the fact that Pria is _very _pointedly pulling her hair into a ponytail and taking way more time than necessary. It's obvious that she's doing it to try and catch Noah's attention with the way her whole stomach is exposed while she has her arms raised. She's a pretty girl but, you know, sixteen. So all of the show-and-tell she always does for Noah pretty much just makes her look desperate. And also, slutty.

Noah's ignoring her, though, and he's still just focused on his sister. "Just cut the bullshit, Bek. Tell me what you want."

"The beach?"

"When?"

"This weekend."

"With who?"

"Pria!" And she links their arms as if she needs to prove that they're a united front.

"For how long?"

"Just four days. Please?"

Noah lets out a little breath and looks at Rachel. She's definitely not going to be responsible for making this decision, but she asks the most obvious question anyway. "Adults?"

"My parents will be there," Pria speaks up. Then she flashes Rachel the fakest smile possible and says, "_Obviously, _Mrs. Puckerman."

She's attempting humor. Or at least she's attempting bitchiness _masked _with humor. But Rachel pretty much just wants to punch her. She doesn't get the chance, though, because Noah gives in.

"Yeah, okay. But don't get there and do something stupid."

Rachel doesn't know what he's referring to with _something stupid, _but Bekah doesn't ask for clarification. Instead, she just smiles really big and tells them that she's going out for dinner. She disappears as quickly as she came, and once again, they're left alone in the kitchen.

"Four days and an empty apartment."

Rachel knows exactly what Noah's saying, and she smiles in agreement.

"Four days is a long time."

"We can do a lot in four days."

She nods. "Probably, yeah."

They kind of get started early after that, but Rachel really doesn't think they should be blamed for it. They're allowed a honeymoon phase, regardless of how long they've already been living together, and she's pretty damn intent on taking advantage of it. Noah doesn't seem to disagree.

But Rachel hears her phone ring as she's getting ready for a shower. It's in the bedroom, so she ignores it, knowing that Noah will answer it if it's important enough or that it'll at least go to voicemail. It's pretty late for someone to be calling, though, and she's a little curious about it. She's surprised when Noah knocks on the bathroom door, and she opens it to see him holding her phone, so she gives him a confused look and takes it from him. The number on the display is not familiar.

"Hello?"

"Rachel? Mitch Arringsmith."

She doesn't say anything at first because she really can't believe he's calling her, much less that he's calling this late, especially since she just saw him a few hours ago. Still, she has to make her voice work, so she says, "Yes?"

"You need to be at the office tomorrow at eleven. I talked to the director, and he wants to see you."

"To-tomorrow?" She must sound like an idiot, literally _stuttering._

"Yeah. So be on time and try to wear something that doesn't make you look like Mary fucking Tyler Moore."

She wants to be offended, but she finds herself just nodding instead, which is stupid since he can't see her. She realizes this and manages to get out an, "Okay," before he disconnects the call, and then she's just left there staring at her phone.

"What did he say?" Noah's voice breaks into her daze, and she blinks at him.

"He said that the director wants to meet me tomorrow."

"Seriously?" She nods because she doesn't really know what else to do. "That's awesome!"

She lets out a little broken laugh when she sees how wide he's smiling, and she nods again, smiling just as big. He hugs her and picks her up in the process, and she can't do much of anything besides just let him and try to wrap her head around the situation. She knows better than to get her hopes too high, but she's never had a one-on-one meeting with an actual director before. For _anything. _And yeah, maybe this is just a small little play, but it's still closer than she's ever really gotten. And it's all happening so _fast..._

She just needs to _kill _it.

…

A/N: Really sorry the delay. There's been a lot of stuff going on in my life lately, and I just haven't had much time. Hopefully that will change soon. Thanks so much for all the reviews on the last chapter, and I hope you're still enjoying this!


	13. Chapter 13

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 13**

The next day, Rachel finds herself sitting in Mitch's office once again, though this time they're joined by Clint Hastings, an apparent "up and coming" director whose credits so far include a one-man play in Harlem and an assistant director credit on a few regional productions in New Jersey. Rachel's never heard of him before, but he looks fairly young and doesn't _seem _like an asshole. Not like Mitch anyway, who immediately gives Rachel the once-over to make sure she's dressed appropriately. Apparently she passes the test because she doesn't get the signature look of disgust that she got yesterday- she just gets a look of mild disinterest.

This is nothing like the callbacks she's been to for other shows. Those usually take place in a theatre with a stage and several different members of production. This is totally different because it's just the three of them, and there's not a stage in sight. This should probably make her feel better, but she really just feels even more nervous.

"Mitch says you're an amazing vocalist." Clint looks right at her a few seconds after the awkward discussion of the weather ends.

She doesn't know whether to agree and risk coming off as egotistical or downplay her talents. But seriously? She's never downplayed her talents in her entire life.

She goes with something safe and in the middle. "I've auditioned for him before. But I guess I didn't fit the character."

"You don't fit this character, either."

She's _sick _of hearing that, but she forces her face to stay neutral. Instead, she decides to try a little bit of sarcasm. "So I hear."

Clint smiles, but she's not really sure if it's sarcastic or genuine. "I want to hear you sing."

There's no pianist, no proper audition accompaniment, and she honestly doesn't even see a CD player in here. It's not at all set up for a legitimate audition, so she's not sure how she's expected to treat it like one.

"Now?" she asks dumbly because she really doesn't know if that's what he's requesting or not.

"Well, unless you plan on coming over for dinner later, now's probably the best time, yes." Mitch snorts because apparently he not only enjoys making fun of her himself, he also enjoys watching other people make her feel like an idiot.

Still, she's determined not to be shaken, and she just smiles confidently, though she's careful not to make it too bright. And then she sings for them. Acapella. Neither of them speak until she's finished, and then she's actually _shocked _when they both applaud. There's no standing ovation or anything, but the light appreciative clapping is more than she expected.

They praise her on the singing, Clint tells her that she's got a "gorgeous tone," and Mitch just nods like he's not hearing anything he didn't know before. Rachel would normally be very receptive to their praise, smiling widely and accepting it, but she thinks she needs to keep her natural enthusiasm in check for now because clearly they're not looking for someone bright and bubbly.

She reads for them, a piece of the script she's never seen before. It's significantly more dramatic than the original side she used, and she hopes that they can't hear the nervousness in her voice as she reads. She's never really been great at dry reads, and she would obviously rather have time to prepare before she actually has to perform it. But she's not getting that luxury today- all she's getting is a director telling her that she doesn't "get" the character.

"Lily's fucked up in the head right now. She doesn't give a shit about _anything _except figuring out where her next hit is coming from. You're putting too much into it."

Rachel really doesn't know what they want from her. She's giving it her all, which is apparently too much, but if she backs off, they might see her as not trying hard enough. Really, though, how do they expect her to know things about this character and what her mind-frame is at any given moment when she's never seen any of this before. There's a huge part of her that thinks they're intentionally giving her a hard time just to see how she reacts. She doesn't bite. She's not giving them that satisfaction.

Instead, she puts a completely different spin on everything and starts the reading over.

"I'm not holding open auditions for this." Clint doesn't even comment when she finishes; he just changes the subject completely. "Too small. I'm only seeing a few people."

"Then I guess I should feel honored?"

He smiles a little at the questioning inflection she adds. Being a smartass is not really in her wheelhouse, but she's been around enough of them to know how they react. And since it definitely seems like these guys would much rather have a smartass than a nice girl, she'll give them exactly what they desire.

"You should," he agrees. "You should also know that the pay is total shit."

"It's probably more than my waitress salary."

"Probably." He smirks again, and part of her thinks that he's vaguely trying to flirt with her. It doesn't necessarily make her _uncomfortable, _but she makes a point to scratch her ear with her left hand, leaving her wedding ring more than visible. If he even notices, he probably doesn't care. But it makes her feel a little better.

Really, though, if he wants to flirt with her, she's not going to stop him. Not if it ends up with her walking away from this with a part. She would never _do _anything, of course, but she can't exactly _stop _him teasing her and slyly flirting. Harmless anyway.

"And there's sex." His statement seems to come out of nowhere, and she stares at him for a second, wondering what the hell he's talking about. Then she realizes he's talking about the play, and she just kind of blinks. "I don't know how you feel about that."

She doesn't know, either, honestly.

She's thought about it in the past, wondered how she could ever feel comfortable in that kind of scene and thinking of possible scenarios where she might consider partial nudity in a viable role. Honestly, though, she's never really come to a decision on the subject.

"Don't know about nudity," he answers her next question before she asks it. "Maybe, though. Would your boyfriend have a problem with that?"

"_Husband," _Mitch corrects, and Rachel just sort of realizes that he's still there- she'd actually forgotten.

Clint smiles. "Even better."

She's annoyed now, and she doesn't find the teasing cute anymore. Now she's thinking seriously about his question and trying to imagine the possible reaction she'll get if she _does _land this role and has to take her clothes off. Noah probably won't be pleased at all, and she's not exactly looking forward to his blowup on the subject.

"We've never really discussed it," she says honestly because, really, they _haven't. _She assumes that he must have thought about it at one point or another. As an actor, situations like that are always a possibility, and surely he's imagined it happening before. But they've never actually talked about it with each other, and there's no way she's excited to have that conversation.

Clint ignores her, and she realizes he's probably only asking what he thinks are hypothetical questions and that she's not meant to legitimately answer all of them. Maybe she should just shut up and keep her mouth shut. She's actually _shocked _into silence when she gets the next piece of information.

"To play this part, you'd need to be probably ten or fifteen pounds lighter than you are right now."

She just stares at him after that. Then she turns her head and looks at Mitch who doesn't seem to disagree with the director. She's... well, _pissed _really. No one has ever told her to lose weight. She has an extremely small frame, but she's always been careful to keep herself at a healthy weight. Losing five pounds makes a huge difference on her body. _Fifteen _is insane.

"You look fine," he clarifies quickly, obviously seeing the look on her face. "Beautiful. But Lily's sick. She needs to _look _sick."

Sooo... naked and anorexic. For crappy pay. Sounds thrilling.

She doesn't hear anything else from them for the rest of the week. She tries not to worry about it because it's not at all normal to hear something that quickly. It still sucks, though. Instead of worrying about it, she just goes about her normal business. She goes to work, goes to an audition on Thursday, and tries to not to worry about whether or not someone likes her enough to cast her.

Bekah leaves for the beach on Friday morning, and Rachel starts worrying pretty much immediately. She can't help it. She knows nothing's going to happen, but she still worries whenever Bekah's away from them. At least Pria's parents are with them, though, so maybe the girls can't get into anything _too _stupid. At least she hopes not.

It's nice, though, having a weekend alone. Four nights is a really long time when they rarely have four _hours, _and even though both she and Noah are busy, she already knows they're not going to be doing much.

She hasn't mentioned the conversation that she had with the director, and she doesn't intend to. She's not opening up a can of worms unless she knows for certain that she _needs _to open it. All she told Noah was that they seemed to like her singing but that they both told her she might not be right for the part. She made no mention of the fact that they told her she might have to take her clothes off or that she needed to lose weight. He probably wouldn't be a fan of either of those things, so she's just kept her mouth shut.

She gets off work a little earlier than expected and drops by the street market outside of the subway station on her way home. She picks up a few things for dinner and takes the long route around the block to her building. It's _gorgeous _outside, and she just wants to enjoy it.

There are things that need to be done around the apartment, and she slips her earbuds in as she sorts laundry and sprays down the shower. It doesn't take long to get bored, though, and before she starts dinner, she sends Noah a text that just says _Come home fast, I miss you, _and she'll let him figure out the rest of it. It's not a lie, either- she's been thinking about him all day. It's definitely been distracting, and usually she's very good at staying focused and not letting other things (even _that) _avert her attention from the task at hand. So she really doesn't know what her problem is beyond the fact that she's just been sitting with the knowledge that Bekah's out of town and that they both randomly have tomorrow completely off. That basically _never _happens on a Saturday, so it's definitely a good thing.

He texts her back a few minutes later and says he's at the library and that he's leaving in ten minutes. That gives her probably thirty before he actually makes it home, so she pours herself a glass of red wine and starts dinner. It's so quiet- the entire building seems to be either missing or asleep because she literally hears nothing besides the oil popping from the stove. It's kind of creepy because she never actually hears _quiet, _and it kind of freaks her out just a little. Still, it's overwhelmingly peaceful, and she enjoys it for the few minutes she has.

When Noah gets home, she's on her second glass of wine, and dinner's almost finished.

He finds her in the kitchen, grabs her around the waist, and kisses her before he asks what smells so good. She smiles and moves the lid off the skillet to show the stir fry she's been working on. He doesn't let go of her but leans in closer to look.

"You're so domesticated."

He's probably making fun of her, but she doesn't care because she just cut all these fresh vegetables up by hand and worked hard. She could have just bought a frozen stir fry in a bag, but she didn't. He should be proud of her because it's not like she cooks a lot. Or at all.

She pours him a glass of wine, even though she knows he'd rather have beer. But she's trying to be a little classy, and he should help her out and humor her. He doesn't actually seem to mind really- alcohol is alcohol, and he's apparently not very picky today. But he's not exactly classy, either- downing the entire glass in about thirty seconds.

She'd say something about it, but he sets the glass down and picks her up in one single movement.

She's a little shocked, obviously, but he smiles at her, and she can't help smiling back. She's got her ankles crossed around his waist and her arms around his neck. She's about an inch taller than him like this, and she loves it.

"I'm glad you finally came home," she tells him teasingly because, really, it's not like she's been home for a _long _time. "I was bored."

"Good. Because I've been thinking about you all day." He's looking straight on at her, and she's pretty sure he's telling the truth.

"Yeah? What about?"

That smile is easy to read, and she knows _exactly _what he's been thinking about. Still, she lets him say it. "A bunch of stuff that would totally take away from dinner, so we should probably eat first."

She giggles, but she doesn't try to stop him when he kisses her. It's sweet and cute, and sometimes she really _does _want a little bit of flirting. Things are always so crazy and busy and crowded that it's not like they have a lot of time to just joke around. Or even a lot of time to just be alone together. So it's fun.

When he sets her back down on her feet, she keeps one hand in his back pocket while he scoops them out two bowls of stir fry and tops off her wine. She doesn't complain when he opts for beer this time, either, because at least they made an effort at class. She probably definitely needs to cut the wine after this glass, though, because it goes straight to her head, and she can't handle too much of it.

Dinner is _good. _She's proud of herself, and he compliments it, too, so she feels even better. It's not like it was hard or anything, but it's something she doesn't normally do and has never really learned. They generally eat take-out five nights a week, and the other two, they either go out to dinner or Noah cooks. He's not amazing, either, but he's better than she is. She tells him he has to do the dishes and giggles again when he drags her back to the kitchen to "help."

That lasts for about thirty seconds before he's turning the water off and saying they should leave the dishes and take her panties off instead.

So, yeah. They do that.

The next day is spent exactly as she imagines it. They spend most of it in bed and get up really only to eat and shower. They don't leave the apartment at all, and once again, they're eating Chinese takeout in the middle of the afternoon. It's great, though. This is the kind of life she wishes she could live every day- where there are no outside influences dragging them away, no pressure of school or work or auditions that never seem to pan out the way they want. She wishes they could just live this no worries kind of life where the biggest problem is whether to eat in the living room or in the bedroom and risk getting soy sauce on the sheets. (They eat on the floor in the living room).

Still, the effect of lazing around all day means she takes an extra long nap at 7 PM, wakes up at 11 as Noah apparently tries to leave a hickey on the back of her shoulder, and is wide awake at 1:30 when he passes out.

The dishes still aren't done from the night before, so she pulls on a t-shirt and goes to actually clean up. The empty containers from today are also sitting on the counter, and they definitely don't need to do anything to encourage bugs around here, so she puts them in the trash and ties it up. Noah can actually contribute in the morning and take it downstairs. But cleaning the kitchen doesn't take much time, and she's still awake as ever.

She never gets anything interesting in her email anymore. It's gotten to the point where she only checks it every four or five days, and then only reason she checks then really is just to keep her inbox under control. But she's bored enough to grab the laptop and settle down on the sofa with a cup of hot tea and the television turned on low. Junk mail, junk mail, spam, spam, spam. That's all she ever seems to get. She saves a few messages that seem to have good coupon offers, just in case, but there's really only one email in the 41 New Messages that catches her eye.

_Hi Rachel,_

_Not sure if you even have this email anymore, but I'll give it a shot. I just wanted to get in touch and say hello, it's been awhile. I hope you're doing well and that things are working out for you. Are you still in New York? I'm teaching again, this time in Boston. It's a nice change of pace from Ohio and also nice to get back into things after taking a few years off._

_I'd love to hear from you and to know how you're doing. I'll see if this email bounces, and if it does, I might try to get in touch with your dads. If you get this, though, I'd love to hear back. I think about you a lot, and I hope you're doing great. _

_Email me back if you can- if not, just know you're always in my thoughts and I only want great things for you._

_Shelby_

It's not nearly as jarring to read as Rachel might expect.

True, it's been a _long _time since Shelby Corcoran has been in touch. The last time they had any contact, Rachel was sixteen. And at that time, she felt more abandoned than anything. She won't lie and say it wasn't rough. It was tough to have a mother enter her life for a few weeks and then leave again, mostly because Rachel couldn't understand why Shelby ever came back in the first place if she had no intention of staying. It was too much to process then, and she felt used, abandoned, and most of all, unwanted.

But she's not sixteen anymore.

She still doesn't understand it completely. There's part of her that still feels like that teenage girl who wasn't good enough to make her own mother stick around, but she knows there's a lot more to it than that. She's made peace enough with the situation to where she can look at it objectively and know that you can't be abandoned by someone who was never there to begin with. Shelby was never meant to be her _mother. _She was meant to give birth, and there was no more to it than that. Yes, she chose to seek Rachel out years later, but she had no obligation to be anyone's mom.

Except she is now.

And really, at the very core of everything, that's the only thing that still bothers Rachel about the entire situation. It's not that Shelby didn't want her. It's not that she seemed to change her mind after finding Rachel and getting her hopes up. It's more that she showed up thinking she wanted a relationship with Rachel and left with a replacement baby and without a second glance back. A baby that, in another world, Rachel herself might be raising right now.

That's hard to say, though. She's a firm believer in everything happening for a reason (even if she can't make sense of it half the time), so she doesn't know what her life would be like if Shelby never showed back up or if Beth was never adopted. It's not something she and Noah talk about. They've discussed it a few times, for various reasons, over the years, but it's not something that they bring up on a regular basis, mostly because it's not something that has to do with _them. _In all honesty, if the baby was never adopted, they probably would not be together. Things would be so different, and they'd both be living totally different lives.

But still. It's _her _mom and _his _baby. And there's a connection there that makes things way too complicated to just be normal.

She should probably think on it some more, but she hits reply before she lets her thoughts get too crowded.

_Hi. _

She types Shelby and erases it because it sounds weird to address her as that, but she can't address her as Mom. She just leaves it alone.

_Yes, I've still got this email address, as you can probably tell. _

No matter what she types, it feels awkward.

_I'm still in New York. I've been here for five years now. I went to NYU and graduated last year. I'm trying to be an actress, but so far, I haven't had many opportunities. I'm working on it, though, not giving up._

Part of her feels the need to justify the fact that she's been unsuccessful so far. It feels like too much of a parallel to the woman who had a child to make enough money to live in New York and fail at being an actress. Rachel doesn't want that parallel.

_I got married last month, so that's new. I'm very happy, and things are going really well._

She adds the part about being very happy to prove that she has more to her life than just a (so far) failed acting career. She and Shelby are not the same. She has more than just the stage, and as frustrated as she may be with dead end after dead end, she still has something more at home. Shelby never had that.

She deletes the part that says _I married Noah Puckerman _because, well, she's not sure why. But she doesn't want to say it. She doesn't want to put that connection out there. She doesn't want to share her whole life with this woman, but she has to wonder what would go through her mind if she read that her biological daughter was married to the biological father of her adopted daughter. Would it worry her? Confuse her? Would she even _care?_

_Life is pretty good. Thank you for getting in touch, it was good to hear from you._

_Rachel._

She's not sure that that's true. She's not sure how good it is to hear from Shelby. She's not even sure how she feels right now or if she feels anything at all.

She hits send before she chickens out.

…

A/N: As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter, and I, once again, apologize for the delay in getting this out. I'm glad people are still enjoying this story!


	14. Chapter 14

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 14**

…

She gets the part.

She gets a personal phone call from the director telling her to that he'll send someone over with the full script and to come to rehearsal on Friday morning, and that's that. She just kind of sits there in shock when she hangs up, and when she's finally convinced herself that it's real, she grabs her purse and basically _runs _to the subway station.

She doesn't do this. She doesn't drop in on Noah in the middle of the day when he's working. He only works part-time, and she doesn't like distracting him. Occasionally, he'll stop by the restaurant, usually close to the time she should be getting done, but it's not something that happens regularly. This is an exception, though, and she really, really cannot wait until seven o'clock when he's supposed to get off.

He works at a little music store that's almost in Harlem but not quite. It's kind of just a hole in the wall, but it sells a good mixture of things. There's a lot of vinyl, but there's also a lot of newer stuff and a pretty good selection of instruments, too. Noah's only there maybe three days a week, and the pay's really not even worth the commute. But he likes it, and it gives him something to do that's at least _somewhat _related to his major. Rachel's really only been there a few times, though, and when she gets off at the stop, she has to think for a second about which direction to walk.

She finds it, though, and it's starts raining just before she goes inside. She doesn't care, though, and mostly she's just glad that the whole place seems to be empty. She doesn't even see Noah at first, but he comes through the curtain at the back when he hears the bell on the door. She can tell he's surprised to see her because he gives her this really weird look at first and then asks her what's wrong.

She meets him halfway through the store and looks around once more just to make sure nobody else is around. Not that it matters, of course, but she hates thinking she's alone and realizing she's not.

"I got that part."

He just stares at her for a second. Then he kind of smiles a little bit. "The one they called you for?"

She nods, and he smiles even more.

Then she hugs him because she doesn't know what else to say. Really, there's not much at all to say because it's actually real. She actually got a job. An _acting _job. In New York. It's surreal. She's been waiting for this forever, and now she can't think of anything to say.

She went to a callback over the weekend and read with two different guys. That made her think she probably had a good chance, but she didn't let herself think it might actually be real. She's gotten really good at setting herself up for disappointment, so it's something she's been working on. It's easier to deal with rejection when you have no expectations to begin with. But now...

Now she actually has a part. And she doesn't know what to feel.

The script is waiting for her when she and Noah get back to the apartment that night. Bekah apparently got home from her piano lesson just before it arrived and signed for it, and when she hands it over, she asks Rachel if she actually got the part. She gets super excited and hugs Rachel and tells her it's awesome, and it feels good to know that she's got so much support behind her. Especially since Rachel herself isn't even sure of her own feelings.

She goes to the bedroom and reads the entire script cover to cover. It's different from what she expected. She's not actually the _lead. _The lead is a man, and while she's the female lead, it's his story that's being told. She's surprised to read that she actually dies in the end, which is something no one mentioned before. It's crazy because the story she put together from the various sides she's worked with really don't come close to what the actual story is. It's even more dramatic than she originally thought, and honestly, this is not something she ever even imagined doing. It's certainly not what she imagined her first foray onto a New York stage would consist of.

But she's totally in love with all of it.

Any doubt she had in her mind is erased by the time she closes the script, and she just takes a second to absorb it. There's a lot of heavy material in there, and the actual musical aspect of this show is miniscule compared to the acting. She's a little worried about that because it's her singing that has always carried her- acting has never been her forte. But she's really worked her ass off to get better. She spent her entire college career working to be a better actor, and she knows that she is in a completely different league than she was when she first started school.

She can do this. She's _determined _to do this.

She spends the next two days consumed with the script and trying to imagine herself in the role. Lily is someone she feels sympathy for, and she's sure that the audience will have the same reaction. She's just a desperate girl who has nothing and no one, but it's important for Rachel to remove herself from the sympathy and to try to get into the head space of this girl from a completely different and more intimate angle.

The only thing that distracts her from the play, though, is the fact that she receives yet another email from Shelby. She still hasn't mentioned the first one to Noah, and only part of that was intentional. She really hasn't thought about _anything _besides this show and this character, and she's honestly forgotten all about the original message when she logs into her email account.

_Rachel,_

_It was so good to hear from you! I'm glad the email went through and glad that you're doing well. Married? That's great! I know you're happy, and I'm happy for you. _

_I know New York is hard, but I'm really proud of you for sticking with it and especially for finishing school. You're extremely talented, and I hope that you don't allow yourself to be discouraged. Making it in New York is hard and takes time and dedication. I know you've got the skills to accomplish all of that, and I hope you don't forget it._

_Things are going really well here. We're just enjoying the last few weeks before school starts. Beth will be in second grade this year- can you believe it? She's a soccer player and refuses to let me sign her up for voice lessons or dance or anything like that. I gave up on having a mini-me and just let her embrace her inner-athlete. She loves to get dirty and play with the boys. It's funny, but I'd like to put her in a dress once in awhile. The world might end before that happens, though._

_Are you still in contact with Quinn and Noah? Beth and I have been talking about it lately, and she's asking questions. I don't hide anything, but I'd like to be able to give her more information than just what I have. I never got to know much about them, but I'm sure must come by this athletic ability naturally because she sure doesn't get it from me._

There's more to the email after that, but Rachel stops reading.

She reads those two paragraphs over and over and wonders what a panic attack feels like. She has no idea where it's coming from or why she feels like this, but there's just... _something _building up low in her stomach. She's not sure what it is, probably not panic, maybe anger. Probably resentment.

_I gave up on having a mini-me._

She wants to cry or scream or something because _what the fuck? _Shelby Corcoran _has _a mini-me, and she's never wanted anything to do with her. It's not fair. It's really... Rachel takes a deep breath. She cannot do this. She _will not _do this. She is not going to be jealous or resentful of a seven year old child. She won't.

At least she really, really doesn't want to be.

_Are you still in contact with Quinn and Noah?_

Quinn and Noah. Like they're a thing. Like Quinn and Noah is something that's _ever _been real. She's surprised Shelby even knows their names honestly. Or at least that she knows Noah's. She might know Puck, but where did she even _get _Noah? Oh, right. From the adoption papers. Where he and Quinn and both their moms signed away every right they ever had to a little girl who would apparently grow up to be a non-singing soccer player.

She never should have emailed her back. She doesn't want to deal with this. It's too real right now, and she realizes way too suddenly that it's not something she wants.

And yet, she finds herself clicking on the JPG attachment anyway.

There's a little girl in a soccer uniform posing with a trophy that's halfway as big as her. The nameplate on the trophy says _Beth Corcoran. _And there it is.

If it wasn't real before, it is now.

Beth doesn't look anything like Rachel expected. In her mind, on the few occasions she has acknowledged the child's existence, Rachel has always seen a little girl with fair skin and soft blonde hair and green eyes. Beth has always been mini-Quinn in Rachel's mind. But she's not. She's... _Bekah. _But with curly hair.

Rachel stares at the picture for, well, she's not even sure how long. A long time.

It's almost haunting in a way, seeing this little girl who has always only seemed real on the very outset of reality. But here she is, smiling for a camera and showing off two missing teeth. Her eyes are more like Quinn's- definitely green, though there are hints of brown there if you look hard enough. Everything else, though, is one-hundred percent Puckerman. In some vague part of her mind, Rachel blankly wonders if this is how her own child will look one day.

And then she erases that thought immediately because this is _not _her child.

Noah comes home from the gym and practically scares her to death when he comes into the living room. She didn't even hear the lock, and that's scary all on its own. Without thinking, she snaps the lid of the laptop closed and ignores the strange look he gives her.

"You're an adult. You're allowed to look at porn."

She looks at him, totally confused. "Huh?"

And he laughs and rolls his eyes. "You looked just like me when I was like fourteen and my mom decided to barge in my room."

He's teasing her, and she should laugh or insult him or _something, _but she can't do anything. She just lets out a little breath and doesn't say anything.

Apparently that's enough to get him worried, though, because he sits down beside her and pushes some hair out of her face. "You okay?"

She nods, but she really feels like crying.

"Rach, what's wrong?"

She doesn't know what to say or even whether to tell him. Part of her wants to keep this secret, close her email account, and pretend this never happened. But she can't. She can't do that because it's not fair, and she can't _lie. _Not about something like this.

So she tells him.

"Shelby emailed me."

Noah just looks at her, and she knows what he's thinking and what he wants to know. She's not stupid. She knows the questions he has have nothing to do with Shelby and everything to do with someone else.

Because as much as Rachel herself likes to pretend that Beth doesn't exist, Noah _never _pretends that.

They don't talk about it, true. They never really have, and the few times it's come up have been short and strained. But that doesn't mean Noah doesn't think about it all the time. She knows he does. He's got a picture in his wallet of a newborn wrapped up tightly in a blanket with a little pink hat on. She asked him one time when he took it, and he said, "When I thought she changed her mind." Noah didn't get a choice in that, and Rachel knows it. She knows that he was told what to do, where to sign, and to basically keep his mouth shut about any of his own personal opinions.

And she knows he thinks about it every day.

"Did she say anything about..." his question trails for a second, and then he clears his throat, "Beth? Or anything?"

Rachel knows it's hard for him to even ask, and she tries really hard not to be offended that his first question is about Beth and not about how she feels being contacted by her mother out of nowhere after all these years. Instead, she just answers honestly.

"She sent a picture."

She knows he wants to see it, but she asks anyway. He nods, slowly, maybe like he's unsure. But she knows he does.

When she opens the laptop again, she tries really hard not to look at him. She's not sure why, but she doesn't want to see his reaction. She doesn't want to know what he looks like when he sees what that newborn in the pink hat looks like seven years later.

But she does anyway.

She can't help it, and when she looks over at him, she's not sure if she feels better or worse. He doesn't notice her at all because he's just staring at the picture she has pulled up. He looks... well, she's not sure how to describe it. The look on his face right now is probably the best and the worst thing she's ever seen. She doesn't even know.

"She looks like..."

"Bekah." Rachel finishes his sentence when he trails off, and he just nods without moving his eyes away.

"She plays soccer."

"Shelby said she won't sing. She only wants to get dirty." Rachel hears her own voice and barely recognizes the flat tone behind it.

Noah, though, smiles a little at that. He's still looking at the picture, and she can only imagine what he's thinking. Here's this little girl who looks like him and acts like him, and he's finally seeing her again for the first time in years. But still. She's a picture on a computer screen. She's not _real. _It's selfish, and she knows it, but Rachel doesn't _want _her to be real.

She doesn't say a word of that.

She doesn't reply to Shelby. She pushes that to the back of her mind and returns her focus to the play. She puts her full attention into learning the script and making herself understand this sad, desperate girl with nothing to live for. She and Noah don't talk much about Beth or Shelby or any of it. He tries, and she always finds an excuse to change the subject. It's just easier.

Friday comes, and she heads to the theatre a good half hour before she needs to leave. There's no real reason to leave that early, but she doesn't want to take any chances. This is her first real job, and she's sure as hell not going to screw it up on the very first day by being late or something stupid like that.

She's not the first one there, which is both comforting and nerve-wracking. She found the theatre easily, having mapped it already just to be safe, but it's even smaller than she imagined it would be. It's about half the size of her high school auditorium and significantly smaller than any of the theatres she worked in during college. It feels right, though. She doesn't even know how to explain it, but something in her gut reassures her the second she walks through the door.

Clint, the director, is there, along with two other men she doesn't recognize and a woman. They all look to the back of the theatre when she comes through the door, and Clint offers her a smile and waves her up to the stage. She goes, trying not to let any of her nervousness show through. Confidence, she tells herself. Confidence, confidence, confidence.

She gets introduced to the other people. The woman, Angela, is the music director. The men are both cast members, one of which is understudy for the lead. They're nice to her, and she tries really hard to just be herself and be polite, but it's hard because she got this role by letting her inner-asshole out. So she's not really sure how she's supposed to present herself here.

"Ange, you're gonna _love _this," Clint says seriously, grabbing Angela by one elbow and Rachel by a wrist. "She's gonna fucking blow your mind."

Angela smiles at her, and Rachel feels embarrassed but also flattered. She returns the smile because she doesn't know what else to do, and she tries to force some of her sudden shyness away. She's never shy, so she has no idea what's going on right now and making her feel too nervous to even speak. Clint leaves them alone, and Angela shakes her head.

"You look like you're about to puke."

Rachel laughs uneasily, she can't help it. "I'm just nervous."

"First real job?"

She nods.

"Don't worry about it. It's just a small show- perfect thing for getting your feet wet."

Rachel keeps telling herself that. She knows it's not that big of a deal, but this is her chance. If she's going to make something of herself, she's going to start here, and she's damn sure determined to be something.

She meets the rest of the cast, including the male lead who shows up ten minutes after rehearsal supposed to begin. Rachel thinks that's extremely rude, and she doesn't care if he's the lead. He can't be _that _important, or he wouldn't be doing this. He barely acknowledges her when they're introduced, and she already doesn't like him. His name is Parker, and he _looks _like a Parker. He looks like a preppy Upper-East Sider who spent half his life in boarding school. He certainly doesn't look like runaway heroin addict. But then again, neither does she, so maybe the director was casting with a mission.

Still, this guy looks like a major douche, and Rachel's not even remotely excited about working with him.

The directors do a sit-down with the entire cast, and they lay the story out scene by scene. Rachel's all but got the script memorized by this point, but hearing it out loud gives her an easier way to visualize it. She's just seriously in love with it. As scared and nervous as she is, she can't wait to start working on this. She can't wait to _perform _it. She expects a read-through or something because that's what they always did in college, but she doesn't get it. The play is told to them like a story, and then they have a group discussion afterward about concerns or questions about the story and their roles. Rachel doesn't say anything, but it's kind of fascinating to listen to the others as they ask questions and dig deeper into the plot than anything that's actually written. She's never seen this so real and up close. It's kind of amazing.

And then Clint sends everyone home besides Rachel and Parker, who he tells to stay.

"You guys ready for this?" He drops down beside them on the stage after leaving temporarily with Angela.

Rachel nods, but Parker just stares. He hasn't said a word the entire time, and Rachel's beginning to wonder if he's a mute.

"You both gotta lose weight." He just puts it out there, and Rachel doesn't know what she was expecting, but part of her was hoping that he would just forget about that altogether. Apparently that's not happening.

Rachel can't just _not _speak up, mostly because this is the only thing still weighing on her about this role. "I can't lose fifteen pounds. It's not healthy." She's going to stick up for herself, or at least _try _to.

"Lily's not healthy." It's just a simple statement, but then Clint shrugs. "You probably don't need to lose fifteen. Just start losing, and I'll tell you when to stop."

Rachel must look hesitant because he smiles at her, an actual nice smile- not a cocky, asshole one.

"Just do it. I don't care how you do it, just do it fast, okay? I promise not to make you do anything crazy."

She's not too confident about that, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she just sucks in on her lower lip and nods. She has to trust him. He's the director.

Rachel goes home more nervous than when she arrived.

She's still extremely excited, but there are worries wearing at her. The weight thing obviously. She doesn't know how to lose weight fast, or even at all really. She already eats healthy and works out regularly- she doesn't know what she's supposed to do to actually _lose _weight. Starve herself maybe. Because _that's _healthy... And then there's the sex thing. She still hasn't actually _told _Noah that part, but she's accepted it and decided that it's worth it. She's even pretty sure that she'll take her clothes off if she's asked because she honestly trusts the director, which is strange because she barely knows him, but she doesn't think he'll make her do anything that isn't necessary to the plot. Plus, there's nothing in the script that's out of place or just there purely for shock value. Everything has a purpose, so she's fine with it. But honestly, meeting her co-star has made her a little less than eager.

She gets home from rehearsal and walks right into a fight.

She doesn't know what's going on or why anyone's fighting. They've actually got several weeks without any sort of major blowups, so they're probably about due. Still, it's really the last thing Rachel wants to come home to, and she stops and looks around. Bekah's practically in tears, and Noah's going off about something- Rachel has no clue what. She knows that apparently Bekah won't "grow the fuck up." Or something. She gathers that from the pissed off way Noah's screaming, and obviously his sister doesn't necessarily agree with that because she screams back at him to just leave her alone. Neither one of them so much as glance at Rachel.

The fight ends when Bekah tries to storm out, and Noah yells at her that she's not going anywhere. Bekah, of course, turns around and yells right back, "You can't stop me!" And then Noah tries to get all super-parenty and pulls out, "Do it and see what happens," like there's anything in the world he can actually do. Bekah, though, is apparently frustrated to the point where she just gives up and barricades herself in her bedroom, slamming the door in an all too familiar fashion.

And then Noah finally acknowledges Rachel.

"What?" She must either have a judgmental look on her face, or he must be in the wrong and know it because he sounds way too defensive. "You know what time she came home last night? Three fucking forty-five." Rachel _doesn't _know that, and she's not sure why someone didn't tell her at the time. That's _way, way _after curfew, and it's not safe for _anyone _to be out that late, much less a teenage girl. "Yeah. And then she didn't go to piano _or _tutoring because she was too _tired." _His voice gets significantly louder, and Rachel knows this is just to prove a point and that he actually wants Bekah to hear him. "I'm not paying for that shit just so she can skip it whenever the hell she wants!"

He's right on that count anyway. Her piano lessons are _certainly _not cheap, and her teacher also has a strict no skipping policy- lessons are supposed to be canceled twenty-four hours ahead of time except in the case of extreme emergencies. If Bekah didn't call, or hell, if she called and said she was too _tired, _there's probably a good chance her teacher will drop her. And as far as the tutoring, she definitely doesn't need to be skipping that. She's been in tutoring pretty much all through middle school and high school. She struggles a lot with certain subjects, and while she hasn't failed anything yet, she actually _needs _the tutoring to even just stay afloat. She especially needs it in the summer, even though she hates it.

Still, the fighting is unnecessary. Screaming at her never does anything besides just piss Bekah off and make her freeze everyone out. Rachel's not getting into that, though. She changes the subject.

"I just got out of rehearsal."

"Yeah? How was it?" Noah goes to the kitchen, and Rachel follows him. He starts pulling out some stuff to make a sandwich.

"It was good. The director seems really devoted, and he's really smart. The male lead seems like a jerk, though."

Noah just kind of makes some noncommittal hum and keeps his attention on pulling turkey out of the fridge. It drives Rachel nuts when he does that. He's still pissed off at Bekah and can't even comprehend anything else.

"He told me to lose weight."

She doesn't get the outraged reaction she imagined. She doesn't get anything close to that. Instead, she gets Noah squirting some mustard onto a slice of bread and saying, "Well, don't lose your boobs."

She wants to smack him. Because _really? _Sometimes she literally cannot _believe _him, and he pisses her off so badly. Most of all, her feelings are hurt because he doesn't even give a _damn _about anything she did today. All he can do is focus on why his sister is terrible and how much of a burden that is on him.

But maybe that's wrong- maybe he can focus on other things, too, because he looks up out of nowhere and says, "Did you ever email your mom back?"

And that just seals it. There will be another fight if she sticks around, so she just kind of gives him a dirty look and says, "She's not my mom."

He doesn't try to follow her when she goes to the bedroom. Either he doesn't realize how pissed she is, or he just doesn't care. Whatever. He's clearly not concerned with anything she's got to say or anything that's going on in her life, so fine. She'll just give him what he wants.

_Shelby, _

It's much easier this time to address her as Shelby. She's not sure why.

_I don't talk to Quinn. She went to college in North Carolina, but I don't know if she's still there. We were never friends, and she's actually not a very nice person at all, so I'm not sure why you would want Beth to know anything about her anyway. Just tell her that Quinn is pretty- that's the only thing Quinn ever cared about anyway._

_I'm married to Noah. We've been together since high school. You left before then, so, of course, you wouldn't know that. Beth looks like him. Actually, she looks like his little sister. I showed him the picture, and he seemed to like it. I don't know if that's what you were going for, but there you go._

_I'm in a new play. I just started rehearsals today. The director loves my voice, and he says I'm going to blow people away._

_That's it, I guess. Bye._

_Rachel_

The email is perfectly toned for what Rachel wants to say. Which is basically _fuck off. _If she was even a little bit drunk, she might type that out exactly. It shouldn't be too hard- after all, Shelby Corcoran is very good at doing just that if history serves as any example.

She sends the email and starts a new Google search- _crash diets. _She should amend it to _crash diets that don't affect your boobs, _but she thinks that one might be harder to pin down.

And he's pretty damn stupid if he thinks he's getting anywhere near her boobs anyway.

...


	15. Chapter 15

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 15**

...

"Well, the Sue Sylvester master cleanse is always good for dropping a few pounds."

Santana's flipping through her Blackberry and not actually making eye contact, which clearly means she's not all that interested. This isn't exactly a surprise, considering the fact that it has nothing to do directly with her.

"I need to drop more than a few." Rachel sighs because she still hasn't admitted all of the concern she's feeling. She hasn't told her parents at all, and since Noah apparently doesn't care one way or the other if she stars herself, the only other person she can really confide in is Santana.

And really, Santana knows something about dropping weight fast. She's been subjecting herself to cheerleading weigh-ins since she was fourteen. So there's got to be something said for that.

"Isn't that basically pepper and lemon juice?" Just the idea makes Rachel want to gag.

"And maple syrup." Santana doesn't seem nearly as repulsed, possibly because she spent her high school career basically living off the stuff. "It works, okay? Beyonce did it for _Dreamgirls."_

Rachel will admit that fact adds to the draw. While obviously, she's never had aspirations to play Deena Jones (or any part in _Dreamgirls, _for that matter), she admires the drive it took to lose that weight and fit the role. Beyonce's one of the hardest working women in the business, and if she can do it, Rachel's certain she can, too.

Still... it's gross.

"I don't really know if I can drink that," she admits.

Santana sighs and finally slips her Blackberry back into her pocket. "Fine. Go with the crazy girls at Notre Dame instead. Dum Dums and water."

"Dum Dums and water?" Rachel stares at her like she's lot her mind, but Santana just shrugs.

"Look, if you had a scholarship on the line, you'd do whatever it takes, too."

"Like the _lollipop _Dum Dums?" Rachel seriously cannot even believe that's real.

"Yes, like the lollipop. Shit, weigh-in is serious business."

Rachel shakes her head. She can't even deal with this right now. "I think I'm just going to start working out more."

"That's fine," Santana rolls her eyes. "If you want to build muscle. If you want to lose weight, you have to cut calories. Like serious calories. _And _bust your ass at the gym- but cardio only, no weight training. Either that, or you better start liking cayenne pepper and lemon juice."

Rachel seriously wants to scream. She is _not _looking forward to this, but she doesn't know what else to do. "So basically I have to starve myself."

"You don't have to _starve _yourself. You just have to eat the right combination of shit."

It doesn't sound like fun at all, but she can do it. She's determined to do it. She just has to figure out how to do it and not kill herself in the process...

"And anyway, isn't Puck flipping his shit over this?"

Rachel rolls her own eyes this time, completely out of bitterness. "Hell, no. He doesn't even care. He said _don't lose your boobs. _That's literally _all_ he said."

Santana laughs because she has no tact and sugarcoats nothing. But then she just shakes her head. "What's up his ass anyway? I talked to him the other day, and he was like super douche."

Rachel shrugs one shoulder and tries really hard not to roll her eyes again. "I don't know. Bekah, I guess."

"Jesus, are those two ever gonna grow the fuck up?"

"Maybe when Bekah goes to college or something."

"They fucking fight like six year olds."

Rachel just looks at her. "You don't have to live with them, okay?"

"Yeah, but you really can't bitch when you've got that tongue at your beck and call."

Rachel turns bright red immediately and doesn't know whether to be mortified or horrified or just plain pissed. Not that any of those emotions have any effect whatsoever on Santana and her lack of tact.

"You are _so_ inappropriate."

"Like you don't know it's true. Whatever, it's a good thing."

Rachel rolls her eyes and leans her head back against the couch. She's stressed, and she just needs to vent, so the loud sigh that comes out of her mouth isn't really a surprise.

"Shelby emailed me."

"Shelby? Like your mom Shelby?"

Rachel feels like that question is even dumber than the Dum Dums one. She also wants to snap that she doesn't have a mother, but she doesn't. It's just not worth the effort. Instead, she just says, "Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Rachel almost cuts herself off, but she doesn't. "To brag about her daughter, I guess."

It's quiet then. She doesn't look over at Santana because she already knows what she'll see. Santana may be blunt to a point, but she knows when things are serious. She has a brain. It's not hard to tell that this isn't exactly news to celebrate.

Sighing again, Rachel gets up and goes into her bedroom to get the laptop. She pulls up the email and hands it to Santana before sitting back down. There. She can see for herself.

"Holy shit." It's the only thing Santana says, and Rachel knows exactly what's going through her mind.

"I know."

"I thought... I thought this kid would look like Quinn."

"Me, too." Rachel tries to keep the edginess out of her voice. "Apparently we were wrong."

Santana's still staring at Beth's picture, which doesn't really surprise Rachel at all because it's something that's kind of hard to look away from. It seems like ages pass before she finally says something, and Rachel can tell she's actually nervous to even ask the question.

"What did Puck say?"

Rachel should answer honestly. She should admit that she hasn't _let _him say much. But she doesn't because that makes her sound selfish, and even if it's true, she's not going to go around _advertising _it.

So instead, she just lifts a shoulder and chews on the inside of her cheek for a second. "He just... I don't know. He just sees _that_," and she motions toward the picture.

Does she feel bad referring to a child as _that? _A little bit. But no one else understands what's going on in her head right now- _she _doesn't even fully understand. But this child... She doesn't _want _this child. It's terrible, and she knows it. It's probably the most selfish, worst thing she's ever felt, but she doesn't want this child to _exist._

Obviously she doesn't say any of that.

Things stay semi-icy at home. Noah doesn't seem to realize that they're fighting and just stays totally caught up in other things. He's not making a huge effort to be nice to her, though, and she's pretty sure the longest conversation they've had in four days involved whether or not they should cancel the premium movie channels on their cable package. (He won that argument).

Bekah's has been in one of her crazy moods for a week, and everyone's feeling it. She and Noah are fighting constantly, and Rachel usually ends up screaming at them both to shut up. It generally works for approximately thirty seconds until Bekah ends up rolling her eyes and saying something bitchy in Rachel's direction.

It's exhausting.

Luckily, rehearsal for the show is in full swing, and Rachel has an easy out and acceptable distraction from the drama at home. She's scheduled to be at the theatre six days a week for the next month until the show opens, and she's actually looking forward to the intense work schedule. She does much better when she has something to put her sole attention toward.

It's easy to be distracted, considering the fact that this play is hands down the most dramatic and 'serious' thing she's ever done. Besides the fact that it's her first major professional job, she's never done anything like it before. Yes, her acting has improved immensely over the years, but she's still never gone for a hard-hitting dramatic role like this one before. And it's fascinating to her how her less than cheerful current outlook on life makes getting into the role much easier.

Parker's still a douchebag, but at least he's started talking. Occasionally. It's not like he really has much choice, of course, since they're working together about eight hours a day. They pretty much _have _to acknowledge each other's existence, and she tries not to hold his natural asshole tendencies against him because she knows better than to judge people prematurely. Still, he's not overly friendly to say the very least- he's standoffish and curt. It's more than a little annoying.

On Wednesday, Rachel makes it to the stage after spending three and a half hours in a private vocal session with the musical director. Angela is actually really talented and has more than a few credits to her name, some of which are pretty impressive. She's nice to an extent, but she's not shy at all about pointing out flaws and insisting on perfection. Rachel appreciates that, though.

When she gets to the stage, Clint's already there running a solo scene with Parker, and neither one of them acknowledge her presence for a good ten minutes. They're the only two on the rehearsal list today, which isn't unusual because while there are other cast members, the vast majority of the play is just the two of them.

Clint finally turns around and acknowledges her. He motions for her to come out to center-stage with them, and then he just kind of stands there and stares at the pair of them. Parker doesn't so much as glance at Rachel, but that's not all that unusual. So she just stands there beside him and wonders what the hell they're supposed to be doing.

"Kiss him."

It's Clint's stage direction, and it's obviously directed at her. She looks at him for a second, but then she looks instead at Parker. He's now staring at her expectantly, so she leans forward just enough to kiss him. He's not insanely tall, so it's not too difficult. It's not the first time she's kissed onstage, and it's really not even that awkward. It's acting, and she's able to separate it. Kissing on stage is one-hundred percent different from kissing someone for real, and it's actually pretty easy.

Parker may be a jackass, but he takes his job seriously, and when Clint tells them to, _"Turn it up," _he grabs Rachel's ponytail and turns her head in a way that makes it much easier for him to actually open her mouth. She lets him, mostly because she doesn't know what else to do. It's acting, yes, and totally different, but that doesn't mean it's not strange to have another man's tongue suddenly in her mouth.

When they stop kissing, Clint's got his lower lip between his teeth like he's thinking really hard about something. Rachel wishes he'd hurry up because while it's not exactly _awkward, _she doesn't really love the fact that Parker makes everything ten times as uncomfortable as it would be anyway. She just wishes he'd _speak _once in awhile, at least about something not directly related to the play. Then maybe she wouldn't feel the need to stand around in awkward silence just waiting for someone else to speak. It's either that or fill up every second of silence with her own voice, and she's been told that that's not a particularly appealing trait.

There's two sex scenes in this play, and Rachel somehow lucked out and gets to be at the center of both... She's yet to really divulge too much of this information to her husband, mostly because she's been waiting to see exactly what's going to be happening before she gets him riled up over something that may turn out to just be kiss and fade to black. One of the scenes isn't actually a love scene at all and is actually closer to assault, but the other is with Parker and reads (at least in the script) as fairly traditional. Apparently that's the scene Clint's intent on blocking today because he tells them both to move further toward the back of the stage and follow his direction.

"Lamp, mattress, table, chair." He points out various spots on the stage for the set pieces that have yet to be seen. Rachel and Parker both know where each alleged piece goes, though, as they've been given the same information at each rehearsal. "Lily, asleep." He motions for Rachel to lay down in the general vicinity of where the mattress will be. She does as she's asked and waits while he gives Parker his own stage direction. "Mike, in. Stumble," he says quickly, and Rachel can tell Parker's doing just that, though she can't actually see him from her current position. "Make some noise, fall into the chair or something. Lily, shocked, awake. Rachel, I said _shocked." _She tries it again, and he lets it go this time. "Sits up... Mike's got the money. Show her... Rachel, act fucking happy, he just got you your midnight hit."

They spend the next two hours choreographing a sex scene that ultimately leaves Rachel lying on a not-so-sturdy table and in far less clothes than she's comfortable with.

It's hard. All of this. She's never done anything like this before, and it's all pretty new to her. So when rehearsal's over and she's leaving the theatre, she's trying very hard not to focus on the fact that she now knows for sure that she has to take her clothes off. Apparently she's going to be spending a good part of this play in her underwear anyway, and Clint's already promised that the next time they run the scene, she'll be in "costume"- which means bra and panties until she gets slammed backwards on the table loses the bra altogether.

She's okay with it. Honestly. She wants to be an actress, and she knows she's going to have to take risks along the way if she wants to be taken seriously. She's never done it before, but she's comfortable enough with this particular show to know that it's essential to the part. It's not nudity for the sake of nudity, which is something she really has no interest in. But this is different. This has a purpose and isn't over the top or crude. True, they haven't actually run it with the dress (or lack thereof), but from what she can tell, it's going to be as tasteful as possible. So yes, she's okay with it.

Noah, on the other hand, is going to freak out.

She goes home with the full intention of telling him everything right away. She's been keeping it to herself long enough, and now that it's confirmed, keeping him in the dark would essentially be the same as lying. As testy as they've been with each other lately, she knows that lying to each other will only make things worse.

But he apparently has some confessing of his own to do.

She finds this out while they're eating Indian take-out from the hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the block. Noah apparently went and got it when she texted him that she was on her way home because it's waiting on the counter when she gets to the apartment. He seems in a better mood than he's been in for a few days, but she can tell something's up. For once, he doesn't immediately start going off about something Bekah's done to piss him off. Instead, he offers her a container of vegan Palak Paneer and kisses her cheek as he hands her a bottle of water. She shouldn't eat it, obviously, because it's not going to help her lose weight. Still, it smells way too good, and she can just run a couple of extra miles on the treadmill if she has to.

They sit down at the table to eat, which is pretty unusual because they generally have their meals on the sofa. The only table that will fit is a tiny two-seater that doesn't even hold all of them. But Bekah's not around, and Noah apparently thinks they need to actually sit down for dinner. She should know right then that something's way off.

She's picking at her food, enjoying it but eating it as slowly as possible and drinking as much water as she can handle in the meantime. She's trying to trick her body into think she's full. It's a trick she read on the Internet, but so far, it doesn't actually seem to be working. She's still hungry, and she wants to just start shoveling food into her mouth. But, of course, she doesn't. Noah's not under any sort of weight restrictions, though- _clearly, _since he's almost totally done with his curry within ten minutes.

"I've been talking to your mom."

He drops it on her out of nowhere just like that. Her initial reaction is _she's not my mom, _but she doesn't even say it because she's too busy staring at him and trying to figure out what the fuck he's talking about right now. Shelby hasn't emailed her since the last reply, and Rachel was beginning to think (_hope_) that she was too freaked about the idea of Rachel _Puckerman _and had decided to just drop it.

Apparently not.

"What do you mean you've been talking to her? Since when?"

"I emailed her." He looks a little guilty, which she takes clearly to mean that he was snooping through her own account because, otherwise, he'd have no way of even knowing Shelby's email address. "And she emailed me back. And then she called me." He starts avoiding eye-contact. "We've talked a couple of times."

Rachel doesn't say anything. Really, she doesn't know _what _to say. She feels... _betrayed _maybe, but that's silly. She can't help it, though. He shouldn't be talking to people behind her back, especially not people like Shelby Corcoran.

"Why would you do that?" She keeps her voice quiet and controlled, and she tries really hard not to go crazy on him and tell him that he's a traitorous bastard, which is what she really feels like doing. She doesn't even care that it makes her crazy.

Noah obviously knows what she's thinking. At least to an extent. He looks a little apologetic, but he gives her those eyes that always get to her. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, and she's fairly sure that he's telling the truth- at least to the extent of knowing that she has hidden abandonment issues in regards to that woman. "But Rach... I just want to know about her..."

Rachel stares at him. She should probably look away because he looks sad and kind of desperate, and she hates that look because she always ends up giving into it. But she doesn't look away. She just keeps her eyes locked on him and says, "And what did you find out?"

Noah apparently isn't into the eye contact thing at the moment because he looks down at his mostly empty food carton and quietly starts making a list. "Her favorite color is purple. She always makes the honor roll. Her favorite subject is science, but she really likes math, too. She reads at a fourth grade level. She plays striker on her soccer team. Last year they were district champions. She won't eat bacon because she read _Charlotte's Web _and cried. She loves horror movies and doesn't get scared of them. Her best friend's name is Nate. And she wants to be a vet when she grows up."

There's nothing to say to that. Nothing at all. So Rachel just says, "Oh."

"Rachel..." And she can tell he's looking at her now, even though she's taken to staring at the table. She swallows because she knows she's supposed to say something else, but she doesn't know what.

"That's good."

It's the dumbest, most useless thing in the world to say right now, but she can't help it. She hates the way she feels inside and knows that whatever it is that's nagging away at her stomach right now probably makes her a horrible bitch. She just... She just _can't _right now. She doesn't even know.

"And I talked to Quinn."

Now she _really _can't. She gets up and doesn't say a word, just takes her food to the trashcan and dumps it. At least she doesn't have to worry about overeating now. She hears him behind her, and she turns around and looks at him because honestly, she's allowed to say something about _that._

"How did you even get Quinn's phone number?"

To the best of her knowledge, neither of them have so much as spoken to Quinn Fabray since they were eighteen. They're not even Facebook friends. Quinn is not in their life and has no _reason _to be in their life. And yet, apparently Noah feels differently. And no, she's not exactly pleased about that.

"Santana got it from Brittany." He's looking at her like he knows she's about to explode. He also seems less than willing to give up that particular piece of information, probably because he knows Santana shouldn't be aiding and abetting him in this... _whatever. _And hell yes, she'll have something to say to Santana about it as well.

"And what the hell did Quinn say?" She doesn't bother trying to keep the hateful tone out of her voice.

Noah looks away for a second and then back at her. "She said she doesn't want to know anything." She can't read his face right there, whether he's upset by that or not. It doesn't really matter. "And then she said she heard I got married and asked if my wife knew I was talking to her."

Rachel almost laughs because it's so fucking _stupid. _It's too much, so she just shakes her head. "So you decided to tell me before she did."

And then he kind of shoots her a mean look, which is different than the slightly guilty look he's been wearing this whole time. "First of all, she wouldn't fucking tell you _anything_." Probably true but beside the point. "And I was gonna tell you anyway."

Rachel doesn't have an immediate response to any of this, so she leaves the kitchen and goes to the bedroom. She feels like she's about to cry, and she really, really doesn't want to do that. This is all out of control. It's not that major, it's not something to fight about. She knows this.

So she just has to get away.

But Noah follows her. She's not exactly surprised, but she really doesn't want or need to talk to him right now. He obviously doesn't care about that. "If you're pissed at me, fucking tell me. Don't just walk away."

"I'm not pissed!" And her voice goes higher and louder on the last word than she originally intends. That's probably because it's her last defense against the little choked sob that slips out, and she's crying before she knows it. She hates herself immediately.

"Rachel..."

"No, I'm fine," and she steps away from him when he tries to touch her. She doesn't need anybody touching her right now, she just needs to be by herself.

"Stop crying."

She hates when people say that. Does anyone _want _to cry? Do people make a conscious effort to just cry on demand when they're in their real lives and not acting or trying to get away with something? No. They don't. Normal people don't anyway. So why do people think that they can just say _stop crying _and it'll magically work? It's stupid.

"I'm fine," she says again, and she doesn't care that it sounds tense and annoyed. She _is _tense and annoyed. "I'm just stressed with the play and with... And I'm just tired. I'm fine."

"Rachel, you can't be mad at me for this. It's..." He lets out some kind of sigh that just sounds like defeat. "I just want to know."

"I'm not mad at you." And she has to take every syllable separately in order to keep her voice even. "It's fine. I know you want to know... I'm glad you can." She sucks in a breath, shaky and completely opposite of his defeated sigh. "But I just need to be alone for a few minutes. Please just leave me alone for like half an hour, okay?"

He stares at her. She thinks he's going to tell her no and continue trying to force her into admitting something she doesn't want to admit. But he doesn't. After a few seconds, he just swallows and nods and closes the door behind him on the way out.

And then she loses it.

She climbs into the bed and pulls the cover over her head as she tries to cry as quietly as possible into her pillow. She's so confused. She's not even sure why she's crying, but she knows that she feels terrible for it. She shouldn't feel this way. This isn't normal or healthy or even _human. _And she can't handle the fact that it's just there taunting her.

This isn't the fight she expected to have tonight.

…


	16. Chapter 16

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 16**

...

She wakes up to pitch blackness and wordless mumbling behind her.

Noah's talking in his sleep, which means he's dreaming. To the best of her knowledge, he only ever does that when he's having a _bad _dream. A nightmare. They used to happen a lot, but it's been a long time since then. He doesn't have the much anymore, but she can always tell when he does, even if she doesn't see it in progress. She knows the look he always has the next day, and she hates it.

She rolls over and waits a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When she can finally make out his face, she sees that it's twisted slightly, and the words he's mumbling don't make sense or translate easily. She puts a hand on his forehead and finds it covered in sweat.

"Noah." She whispers his name because she doesn't want to startle him. She needs to wake him up, but she needs to do it gently. She moves her hand to the side of his neck and carefully curls her fingers around the back to just press slightly at the center. "Noah, wake up."

He jerks awake, and she watches as his eyes fly open in confusion. He swallows, and she knows he can't see anything right away, but a few seconds later, he relaxes and looks right at her.

He knows what's going on, so she doesn't have to spell it out for him. He hates these dreams, and she knows it. A lot of it has to do with the fact that he has no control over them. When he's awake, he can make a conscious effort to not think about things, but when he's asleep, he has no control over what images his head dreams up.

He's been having the same nightmare since he was eighteen years old.

She doesn't say anything, just rolls a little closer and hugs him, leaving their bodies pressed tightly together. He moves one arm around her waist and holds her there, and she just lets him because she knows that's all he needs right now. He won't talk about it, but it's not like there's anything he could say that she doesn't already know. And anyway, talking about it isn't going to change anything. Or erase the images he dreams about. Or bring his mom back.

So they just don't talk.

When they get up the next morning, things are basically back to normal. That's not exactly a great thing because things aren't too friendly between them. There's been a tenseness to the air ever since their original fight over him talking to Shelby behind her back. They're not still fighting, but there's an edginess around them that they can't exactly ignore.

He hasn't mentioned anything else to her about Beth or about Shelby, and while she assumes they must still be in contact, she's not asking for details. She asked him why that same night- why he thought he needed to do it behind her back instead of including her in it, and he just said, "Because you didn't want to be included in it."

It's the truth, but that doesn't mean it stings any less.

In the spirit of openness, she told him all about the play, including the sex and the lack of clothing. She expected him to freak out and try to forbid it or something, so she was shocked when just looked mildly annoyed with the thought and asked her if she was actually comfortable with all of that. She said yes, and he kind of seemed pissed off but just nodded and didn't say anything else.

He was holding his tongue. He's _still _holding his tongue, but there's a part of her that wishes he wouldn't.

When he leaves for work, he drops a kiss to the side of her head and lifts one hand to say bye. Kisses to the cheek and the forehead are the closest they've gotten to anything physical in two weeks, and she hates it. She hates all of this- the awkwardness, the tension, the overall coldness. She'd honestly prefer it if they just weren't speaking because then she could at least pretend that they're still mad at each other. But they're not mad at each other, they're just both frustrated. And they _are _speaking- they just aren't _talking._

She hates it.

She goes to rehearsal and doesn't bother trying to arrive early. She's less enthusiastic now that they're about halfway into the rehearsal schedule. They've only been working for seventeen days, but it honestly feels like seventeen years. She's totally exhausted because she's not used to working this many days in a row, and she hasn't actually had a full meal in more than two weeks. She drinks enough water to drown a small child daily, though, because she's finally tricked her body into thinking hunger is really thirst. And when she leaves rehearsal, she goes to the gym every night and runs five miles on the treadmill. Sometimes she'll run in the morning, too, around her neighborhood or sometimes in the park. It's not exactly hard for her because she's always been a runner- she's run _less _in recent years, but getting back to a stabilized point wasn't difficult, and she actually feels her best when she's soaked in sweat and zoning in on the last mile.

It's gross, but it's somehow vindicating.

When she gets to the theatre, the doors are locked, and she yanks and bangs until someone comes to let her in. It's Parker, and he doesn't say anything when he opens the door for her. She rolls her eyes and walks behind him back until they reach the front of the stage. He hops up onto it and sits on the edge.

"Where's Clint?"

"His water heater flooded, so he had to leave. But he said he'll be back."

"So what? Are we supposed to just wait for him?"

Parker shrugs. Then he yawns and lays down sideways on the edge of the stage. He's attractive- in an overly preppy sort of way. He's younger than her, just barely twenty-one, but he's so quiet and reserved, he seems a lot older.

Rachel doesn't know what else to do, so she sits down in one of the front row seats and crosses both her legs and her arms. This is a waste of time. She's also a little pissed that no one bothered to call her or send her a text telling her not to hurry into the theatre. It's weird being in here, just alone with another person not doing anything at all.

She's honestly surprised when Parker breaks the silence.

"We can run lines if you want."

She doesn't, honestly. They both know their lines, and without the director, running them is fairly pointless. But she just mimics his earlier shrug.

"You're married, right?"

She's caught off-guard and isn't really sure why he's suddenly talking to her after two and a half weeks of virtual silence. Maybe he just thinks it's as weird as she does, sitting here alone and doing nothing. So she nods, figuring she can at least play along.

"Kids?"

She shakes her head. Then she says, "Well, a sixteen year old, but she's not mine."

Parker looks at her strangely from his reclined position. His eyes narrow, and he says, "How old is your husband?"

"He's my age. She's his sister. We've... got custody of her."

Parker doesn't immediately respond. He just sits up and leans backwards on his hands. Finally, "I bet that's fun..."

Rachel lifts one shoulder. "It's fine. We've had her since she was eleven. Their mom died."

She honestly doesn't know _why _she's giving him all this information. He hasn't exactly asked for it, and even if he did, it's not like it's any of his business. But none of that stops her.

"I ran away when I was sixteen."

She stares at him, not sure why _he's _giving away his own information. They haven't even had an actual conversation before this, and now they're giving away personal details. It's a little unnerving. But he's seen her nearly naked, so maybe they don't have much reason to hide anything.

"Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't like my parents. Or maybe I was just an asshole." He shrugs like it doesn't matter one way or the other- maybe it doesn't. "I thought I could take care of myself, so I left and started sleeping at friends' houses until all _their _parents hated me, too. So then I tried to do the street thing for a couple of months, but it didn't really work out the way I planned... So then I went home, and my whole family just pretended like nothing happened."

She can tell he comes from money, not only in the way he dresses but also in the way he speaks. Living in New York has given her a pretty decent grasp on guessing what areas of the city certain people reside in. But maybe his own teenage years are what gave him the upper leg in getting this part. On the surface, he doesn't seem to fit his character at all, but then again, neither does she. She'd come to terms with the fact that Clint was putting everything on the line casting two people so far removed from their characters. But maybe Parker has a lot more in common with Mike than she originally thought.

Their characters are nineteen, but they both left home much earlier than that. Mike's been on his own since he was twelve, and Lily ran away when she was fourteen. They met on the streets, got addicted on the streets, and essentially fell in love on the streets. Maybe Parker's story isn't as dramatic as that, but it's still more real life experience than Rachel has. The only time she ever tried to run away, she was eight, and she got in a fight with her father about the fact that she wasn't allowed to pierce her ears until age thirteen. She threw a fit and told him she was leaving, so he calmly helped her pack a bag and kissed the top of her head before he held the door open for her. She made it all the way to the end of the neighborhood and sat on the corner for two hours with her pink rolling suitcase until her dad finally drove by and asked her if she needed a ride home.

So yes, her experience is fairly limited.

They keep talking, and she finds out more about him than she ever really expected. She was right- Upper East Side. His dad works for a publishing company, and his mom illustrates children's books. They aren't too happy or supportive of his decision to be an actor, but he moved in with some friends when he was eighteen and says he hasn't really needed their approval since. She can't really imagine that- not needing her parents' approval. There have been moments where they've disagreed with her choices, and she's had temporary rebellious thoughts against them, but she's never seriously sat back and decided she didn't care what they thought.

They talk for probably a good hour until they hear the doors to the theatre unlocking. They both look back to see Clint carrying three Starbucks cups and trying to balance his bag on his shoulder even though it's intent on slipping down his arm. They could get up and help him, but Rachel has a feeling that Parker feels just as lazy as she does because neither one of them move.

"Is your apartment flooded?" Rachel happily takes the coffee that's offered to her, glad that her new diet has made her accustomed to drinking it black because right now, the stronger the better.

"No, it just leaked downstairs. But they had to shut it off and order a replacement, so I'm probably without water for the next couple of days."

Rachel wants to tell him that she has no intentions of going near him if he doesn't shower, but she's pretty sure he can at least manage to keep himself clean. He asks if they've gone over anything, and they both tell the truth and say no. He doesn't seem disappointed or anything, probably because he knows they're past the point of just running lines. So they sit around for a few more minutes, all sipping their coffee, and then he puts them to work.

Rachel goes home that night feeling more relaxed about the play than she has in a long time.

Noah's already home when she gets there, tuning his guitar in the bedroom with a glass of something dark sitting beside him on the nightstand. Maybe it's soda, but she strongly suspects that it's at least mixed with Jack Daniels, if not actually _straight up _Jack Daniels. He barely even glances up when she walks in, just mumbles a quiet hello and looks back down at the guitar in his lap.

Rachel hates this, she really honestly hates it. She hates that they're fighting without fighting. Even screaming at each other would be easier than just trying to exist in this suffocating pit of coldness and awkwardness. They shouldn't be like this. They should both be past the point where they feel the need to just shut the other one out, and she knows that they _are. _But somehow, they just fell into this, and now she doesn't think either of them know how to resolve it. And it's just dumb.

She starts changing clothes because even though it's not close to bedtime, she wants out of her jeans and into shorts and a t-shirt. She can hear Noah strumming through some chords and trying to find the right tightness of his strings. She doesn't really think anything about it until he _stops, _and then she glances over at him and sees that he's looking at her.

"You're getting super fucking skinny."

She's not. She's barely hit the five pound mark, and while there's a noticeable difference in the way her clothes fit, she's not bordering on anorexia or anything. Still, the fact that he's noticing the change for the first time says more than anything else- mainly that he hasn't even _looked _at her.

"It's five pounds." And yes, she's annoyed- no, she doesn't bother trying to hide it.

"You're not gonna fucking starve yourself for this."

She rolls her eyes and pulls her shirt over her head. A) He's crazy if he thinks telling her what she _is _or _isn't _going to do will achieve anything besides pissing her off. And B) ...

"I'm not starving myself. You _see _me eat. My breasts are still the same size, though, so you should be happy." She can't let it go- _won't _let it go.

"This is dumb, Rachel. Why the hell did that douchebag even tell you to lose weight in the first place? You're not fat. Fuck him."

This is tiresome because it's past the point of being nonsensical. If he wanted to act like he gave a damn, he should have started weeks ago. Now it's just annoying.

"He didn't _say _I was fat. I know you clearly don't pay attention to a fucking thing I say or do anymore, but I'm losing weight because the girl is addicted to _heroin. _You might have picked that up if you'd pretended to care before now."

His response isn't right away immediate, which doesn't surprise her. She knows she sounds crazy out of nowhere, but she's honestly bothered by the fact that he suddenly decides to give a crap.

When he _does _speak? Well, he'd be a lot better off keeping his mouth shut. "You wanna fill me in on why you're being a super bitch?"

"I'm not being a _bitch," _and she narrows her eyes severely enough to let him know that she in no way appreciates that statement. And she's going to fire back even though it'll only make things worse. "I've been working my _ass _off this month, and you can't even be bothered to ask me how it's going!"

"You're not speaking to me! When the fuck am I supposed to ask you anything when shut down everything I try to say with some stupid one word answer or something?"

"Don't act like I'm the only one in this. You haven't exactly been making all the effort in the world!"

"You're not even ever around!"

"I'm _busy, _Noah. I've been working toward this for _years, _and now that I finally have a chance, excuse me for trying to focus on it!"

She hears the old hag downstairs banging on her ceiling with the broom. Their fight has escalated pretty quickly, but she doesn't care, and she's sure as hell not going to lower her voice.

"_I've _been busy, too, Rachel."

"Yeah." She shakes her head. "Trying to rekindle some stupid fantasy world that was never yours to begin with and sure as hell isn't going to be yours now."

She went too far, and she knows it immediately.

It's not the first time in her life that she's wished for a rewind button. She needs to put the words back in her mouth, but she can't. They're out there, and she knows it's too far.

She walks away before she makes it worse.

"Fuck." She literally cusses at herself and wonders where the hell she can go. There's nowhere _to _go because their apartment is tiny. So she settles on the living room, sitting down on the sofa and drawing both knees up to her so that she can hide her face against them. She stays like that, trying to will herself to either disappear or suddenly contract some kind time-turning ability.

Clearly none of that happens.

She hears him pass by her, and she manages to say, "I'm sorry," but can't actually lift her head to say it. She has no way of knowing if he heard her or if the words were swallowed by her knees, but either way, he doesn't stop or say anything back. She hears the door open and close too loudly and hears the key turning the bolt into place. She should go after him. She should chase him down the stairs and out into the street and _make _him listen, but she doesn't. She can't really. So she just stays where she is.

It takes her an hour to work up the nerve to call him. When he doesn't answer, she's not surprised. In fact, she's actually surprised that it even rings five full times before going to voicemail because she half-expects him to hit ignore on her call. She doesn't leave a message because he never checks them, and honestly, she doesn't know what she would say.

She doesn't eat dinner. She sits alone in the living room staring at the black screen of the television and wondering what the hell she's going to say that's going to take _that _back. She didn't even mean to say it. As many horrible things as she's thought over the past couple of weeks, that hasn't been one of them, so she seriously has no idea where it even came from.

She's a horrible person.

He's still not home by midnight, and she's still in the living room when Bekah comes in. She's more than an hour and a half late for curfew and obviously thinks she's in trouble because she starts making excuses the second she steps through the door. Rachel doesn't care, though. If she didn't look at the clock, she wouldn't even know Bekah was late. Instead of lecturing her, she asks if she's talked to Noah. Bekah shakes her head and asks why.

"Can you call him and see if he answers?"

Bekah looks nervous, and Rachel feels bad because she doesn't mean to scare her. So she shakes her head and tells her they had a fight and that he won't answer her calls. Bekah looks slightly relieved but also nervous as she takes out her phone to call.

He obviously answers because a second later she says, "Where are you?"

Rachel watches her and can't really tell what Noah's saying. Bekah keeps giving vague answers, which is a clear indication that whatever he's saying isn't very nice. Not that Rachel expects any different. She just waits, though, watching until Bekah finally hangs up and gives her a halfway sympathetic frown.

"He said he's staying out."

"Out where?"

"With Santana?" It sounds way more like a question than an answer, probably because Bekah knows that's not going to go over no matter _how _she says it. "He said he's staying over there..."

Rachel stares at her, really not believing that. There's no way that he would go to _Santana. _No way that Santana would _let _him. Just no way.

But of _course _there's a way. And it's true.

"Rachel." She hears Bekah saying her name, but she ignores her. She grabs her purse and her keys off the kitchen counter and leaves without locking the door.

It's almost one in the morning, and it's starting to rain. She doesn't even care. She just starts walking until she sees a taxi coming her way, and then she hails it down. Her phone buzzes in her purse- it's Santana. There's no doubt in her mind that Bekah called them, but there's no way in hell she's answering the phone right now. She's not doing this over the phone.

She practically throws a twenty at the cab driver and gets out of the car without a word when they stop in front of Santana's building. The front door's been broken for a month now, and she pushes it open and heads up the stairs to the third floor. And when she gets to Santana's door, she doesn't think twice about literally _banging _on it.

It only takes about ten seconds for the door to open, and Santana's standing there looking like she knows what's coming. Rachel doesn't care, and she glares at her the second she's got her face to face.

"What the _hell?" _she demands, and she pushes her way into the apartment without being welcomed. "Do you think this is some kind of _joke?"_

"Rachel, you need to calm down."

"No, what I _need _to do is find out why the hell you think it's okay to let my _husband _stay at your apartment and not bother to tell me! How do you think that looks?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "He's my _friend, _Rachel. I'm not going to let him sleep on the street."

"He has his own fucking apartment!" She knows that she's bordering on out of control, and she's cussing way more than usual. She can't help it, though. If anything warrants swearing, it's _this. _

"Yeah, and he obviously doesn't want to be there!"

Santana kind of shouts it right back at her, and Rachel just stares at her because she seriously cannot even believe this is happening. Santana has never been one to back down from a fight, but she should have a little damn decency considering the fact that she's hiding her so-called best friend's husband in her apartment.

And speaking of... It occurs to Rachel that she's yet to _see _her husband, but he shows up literally right on cue with wet hair and wearing a freaking _towel._

"Are you _kidding _me right now?" She's almost in total disbelief because there's no way this is real life. There's just no way.

"You need to calm down." And he doesn't even _attempt _a calming tone. Instead, he gives her his best asshole impression, and she has the strongest urge to hit him.

"_You_ need to put some clothes on!"

"Oh, please. Like there's anything there I haven't seen before." Santana leans back against the hallway wall and crosses her arms. If Rachel wasn't literally afraid of her, she might slap her.

Still, that doesn't mean she can't go a little bit crazy.

"I don't care what you've seen before! He's married!" Then she swings her head around to glare at Noah. "You're _married! _This isn't right, you shouldn't _be _here!" She goes to shove him, but he grabs her wrist.

Santana bolts the door. "You need to be quiet. I have neighbors." Rachel opens her mouth to say that she doesn't give a damn about her neighbors, but Santana shuts her down with a signature bitch look. "And you really need to think about what the fuck you're saying before you go around making dumbass accusations."

She walks past both of them and turns her television on a little too loudly. She's apparently not _too _worried about the neighbors, but she looks like she's seriously having to force herself to stay under control, so Rachel doesn't point it out.

Noah's still got a grasp on her wrist, and he uses it to pull her into the bedroom. She tugs, trying to make him let go, and he does right before he reaches around her and shuts the door. His clothes are in a pile beside the bathroom door, and he starts tugging them back on angrily. She watches him for a second, but then she can't take it anymore.

"What the hell are you _doing _here?"

He yanks the zipper up on his jeans and then turns around and basically corners her. She can't go anywhere because he's blocking her, and she hates how small and vulnerable she feels when he moves one arm to trap her and leans his head really close to hers.

"You're being really fucking stupid right now, you know that?"

She shoves at him again, this time succeeding, and he moves and lets her out. She spins around and glares at him. "Well, what exactly am I supposed to think?"

"Not whatever the fuck's going on in your head right now because you know it's bullshit. And you need to really think before you start saying some shit you don't want to say."

Too late for that. Thinking before speaking is what got them here in the first place.

She wants to cry, but somehow, she doesn't exactly see that as being her way out at the moment. She thinks he'd be less than sympathetic toward it, which isn't really fair because this isn't totally her fault. Maybe _this _is her fault, but the whole thing isn't- they've been building up to this for weeks, and he had a part in that.

"Come home." She says it quietly, biting down on her back teeth to keep her voice under control. "I don't want to do this here."

"Then leave." He says it so simply and finally bends down to pick his shirt up. He pulls it over his head and then says, "No, stay. _I'll _leave. You were pretty fucking dumb to come out this late by yourself anyway."

"I'm not dumb! Stop saying that!" It's the second time in under a minute that he's done it, and she's over it.

"Then stop acting like it!" He looks seriously angry in a way that he normally never looks, at least not with her. They've had their fair share of fights, but for the past few years, they've mostly been small and contained and resolved through a mix of annoying passive-aggressiveness and semi-angry sex. It's been years since they've actually had a blow up like this. "You want to come in here trying accuse me of some shit with _Santana? _Are you fucking _serious?"_

"I didn't accuse you of anything."

He laughs, literally _laughs, _and she hates him a tiny bit for it. "If you think for one goddamn second that I don't know what you're thinking, then you're fucking delusional. And she knows it, too, so good job on pissing your best friend off and basically calling her a slut."

"I didn't call her a slut!"

Her head is about to explode. She seriously doesn't even know how they got to this point or what they're supposed to do now. Now they're just being _mean, _and they shouldn't be acting like this because they're not teenagers and they're supposed to be mature enough to deal with issues without letting them get to this point. But... They clearly can't.

Clearly they're just as petty and vindictive as they were when they were sixteen because the next words out of his mouth absolutely _floor _her.

"Good. Because she's not the one getting paid to flash her tits for the whole fucking city."

She just blinks at him. He's just pulled out the last of his stops, and she knows it. She knows that this is his equivalent to the fantasy world accusation she threw at him earlier, and if she thought he accidentally let it slip without thinking like she did, she might just give him a pass and overlook it. But she can tell he didn't. She can look at him and _know _that he's been thinking about that one, and yeah, maybe he never actually planned to say it out loud, but on some level, he really, truly _means _that.

She leaves, and he doesn't try to stop her. She sees Santana staring at her and wonders how much of it she heard (probably all of it), but she can't say anything. She just works as quickly as she can to unlock the door and then runs downstairs and back into the street. It's pouring the rain down now, and she doesn't have an umbrella. She's soaked within seconds, but she doesn't care. If anything, it gives her the chance to delude herself into believing that she's not actually crying. She keeps her head down and heads down the block, trying (and failing) to shy away from the worst of the rain.

The footsteps running behind her don't exactly surprise her, but they don't make her stop, either.

"Leave me alone," she says dully, and she doesn't even know if he can hear her over the rain. She won't look at him.

"It's 2:30 in the fucking morning," and his voice is as snappy as ever. "You're not walking around out here by yourself."

She wants to snap at him that she's a big girl, that she can take care of herself, and that obviously he doesn't need to show concern he doesn't really feel. But all of that would take too much effort, so she just keeps walking, and when they get to the corner, she stands with her back to him until a taxi finally drives by. They both get in, and she scoots to the furthest corner, putting as much distance between them as possible. He doesn't seem to care at all, and they ride the whole way back to their building in total silence.

He pays while she gets out, and she's halfway up the stairs when she hears him following her. She doesn't wait for him, nor does she hold the door when she gets to their apartment. Bekah's door is closed, but the light's on. Rachel half-expects her to come out and see what's going on, but she doesn't. Good. She doesn't want to deal with that right now anyway.

She strips out of her wet things and pulls on dry clothes. Her hair is soaked, but she doesn't care. She climbs into bed and rolls to face the wall. She hears Noah come in behind her and hears him opening drawers and getting his own fresh clothes out. He doesn't change there, though. He takes the clothes back out with him, and she hears the bathroom door close from the hallway.

Two hours later when she finally falls asleep, he still hasn't come to bed, and she's glad.

…

A/N: Ohhh, the shit hit the fan. I know they're both being stupid petty assholes right now. I know, I know. But... tension that thick, and it was bound to happen sooner or later!


	17. Chapter 17

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 17**

**...**

Santana's not speaking to her.

She finds this out pretty quickly when she tries to talk to her the next day. She gets a deliberately ignored phone call and no reply to her text. Whatever. Rachel honestly doesn't care, and she's pretty sure she's being the bigger person just by _attempting _a conversation. Yes, maybe she went a little bit overboard with unspoken insinuations, and maybe she forced her way into Santana's apartment in the middle of the night, but Santana is not blameless in the whole thing. She _should _have told Rachel immediately. She'd have to be stupid not to realize how it would look, and Santana's not stupid.

But she _is _apparently ignoring Rachel completely.

Oh, well. Rachel doesn't have the patience or the time to worry about coddling Santana right now. She has too much else going on in her life to deal with that, so she just leaves it. Santana will get over it eventually.

In the meantime, things at home are more tense than they've ever been.

There are three full days of complete silence. The only words exchanged in the entire apartment involve Bekah saying she needs money for her latest sheet music set. Other than that, no one really talks to anyone. Rachel doesn't _think _Bekah's intentionally not speaking to her- at least not in a grudge-holding kind of way- but things are just overall too awkward for much conversation.

Noah has purposely avoided her at every possible opportunity. He hasn't slept in their room at all and leaves practically at dawn each morning to go do God knows what. He has nowhere to be that early, but Rachel doesn't call him on it because that would involve speaking to him. She doesn't want to do that partly because she knows speaking will just lead to fighting, but another part of her just doesn't want to speak to him because she's still really angry with him and, more than that, _hurt. _

He hasn't apologized for what he said to her. She imagines that he's _probably _ashamed of himself on some level for saying that and for intentionally hurting her feelings, but even _he's _too stubborn to crack in this situation. Normally, he's the first one to apologize or the first one to try to resolve a fight. But this time? This time, he's clearly just as pissed as she is- possibly _more _because the majority of hers is just straight up hurt.

He called her a _slut._

Not in so many words, of course, but he certainly hinted at it and might as well have just come out and said it. It's obviously what he meant, and it's also obviously how he really feels, considering the fact that he has yet to say he's sorry or even try to say that's not what he really meant. And honestly, if he seriously feels that way, she doesn't want an apology anyway. Apologizing isn't going to change the way he feels, and she doesn't even know how to put her own feelings into words about that.

Instead, she puts her focus, almost defiantly, one-hundred percent toward the show.

Any tiny reservations she might have had about any part of the play are now nonexistent. She's set on doing this and doing it right, and she doesn't care if only five people ever see this show, she intends to deliver a message. She also intends to deliver a message to her husband, proving him wrong and making him feel dumb for ever insinuating anything about her or this show. He has no idea what he's talking about, and if he wants to pass judgment on her, then she can't stop him. But she _can _prove him wrong.

There's only about a week and a half until opening, and now they're working with a full set and putting the last minute details into their costumes. She spends all morning in final fittings and then goes back to the theatre for rehearsal. Clint's working with the understudies right now, so Rachel sits down in the back row of the audience and quietly pull out her phone to check her schedule for the rest of the day. She hears the back doors open again but doesn't turn around, and she doesn't look up until someone's slipping into the seat beside her.

"I just saw someone get their ass beat outside." Parker pulls his sunglasses off and hooks them on the front of his shirt. "These guys were wailing on each other, and then the cops showed up and arrested them. I don't even know what was going on, but it was right outside the theatre."

Rachel turns around as if she can somehow see through the wall, past the lobby, and into the street from her current position. She can't, of course, but she wonders why people would be fighting in the middle of the day in an open street. Lots of reasons, probably. There are a couple of people _she _wouldn't mind punching, come to think of it, but obviously she will refrain.

They watch the understudies' rehearsal, and Parker offers Rachel the bag of grapes he's eating. She takes a few, mostly because she's starving and honestly feels like she could literally eat a horse (which is disturbing because she hasn't had meat since she was fifteen...). But she's down another two pounds, so obviously it's working for her. Clint told her yesterday that she's "getting there," but he'd like to see her drop a few more before opening if she can. She's sick of dieting, but she agreed to try to because it's her job and also because she wants to make this performance the best that she possibly can. It's not fair, though- Parker's already lost eleven pounds and is still eating more than she is. It's easier, though, because he was bigger than her to begin with and also because guys can apparently drop weight with far less effort.

They've been getting along a lot better. They talk to each other on a regular basis now, and even though he's still pretty standoffish with a lot of the other cast and crew members, he's at least taken her out of that pool. They even joke around sometimes, which is nice because it erases a level of awkwardness from their current situation. It's much easier to do the type of intense scenes they've got when they can actually laugh afterward.

Speaking of intense scenes, the understudies are currently running the sex scene, and Rachel and Parker stop whispering long enough to watch. It's the first time that either of them have ever actually _seen _it performed, so they're both interested in how it actually plays out onstage.

It's different than Rachel imagined it would be. They've rehearsed it so many times by now that it's almost second nature. It's very easy to lose yourself in the role and just become totally immersed in it, and she's always kind of thought of that as a double-edged sword. In some ways, it makes her feel even more vulnerable and exposed than she would anyway, but on the other hand, being so completely into the moment makes it easier as well. Of course, they haven't performed in front of any sort of audience, so basically the only people who have actually seen her in action are Clint and Parker and their understudies, but it's getting easier and easier. She's not nervous about taking her clothes off in front of people- she's more nervous about hitting that level of intimacy in front of an audience.

Watching the understudies, though, she's surprised at how tasteful the whole thing is. The other scene that leaves her half-clothed isn't tasteful at all; in fact, it's the complete opposite. Of course, it matches the plot line and somehow feels less open than the one she has with Parker. But seeing it for the first time, she realizes that there's nothing terrible about it at all. She can feel the moment, and yes, maybe she's a little more mentally involved with the characters than the average audience member would be, but she doesn't foresee this scene as being one that sparks a lot of whispers and snickers, something she was initially afraid of.

"Your husband's not going to like kick my ass or anything when he sees this, is he?"

Rachel rolls her eyes without meaning to. Parker's probably joking, but he sounds like he might also be a little genuinely curious. "Maybe. If he actually comes to see it."

She can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn't look over. Instead, she keeps her eyes trained on the stage where her understudy is now completely naked minus her panties. Somehow, she's still not showing as much as Rachel expected to see, and that's comforting.

"So he's not into the whole idea of this, huh?"

Rachel tries not to audibly sigh. It's too dramatic, and there's no point to it. Still, part of her is aching to talk to _someone _about it because she hasn't been able to talk to anyone. She hasn't told her dads because she honestly doesn't want to hear what they have to say. In fact, she's a little surprised that they don't already know because Noah talks to them just as much, if not more, than she does. But obviously he's either _not _talking to them, or he's playing the same game she is and acting like nothing's wrong.

She's irrationally pissed off by the possibility.

"We're just having issues."

It seems like the safest thing to say. She honestly doesn't know what else she _should _say because it's not exactly like she can tell him what's really going on without delving into all the personal details of their relationship. She could tell him that Noah basically called her a slut, but she can't tell him that she threw the first hypothetical punch without going into a tenth grade pregnancy and a mother who never wanted her.

"Well, you can let him know I, you know, respect you, so it's not like a _thing." _It's the least coherent she's ever heard him sound. She's suddenly reminded of how young he is. He's just a couple of years younger than her, but he seems so much older than he is because he usually has such a deep level of maturity about him.

She smiles, and she doesn't even know why. Maybe just because he sounds ridiculously normal for once. "I'll make sure to tell him when he starts speaking to me again."

Parker kind of laughs, which isn't appropriate but somehow the exact right reaction. And she laughs, too, because she can't help herself.

It's the last time she laughs that day.

She goes home to an empty apartment, which isn't at all surprising. She stayed out as late as possible, but apparently that's everyone's plan tonight because no one's home. Rachel honestly doesn't care. She'd rather be alone than stuck in the living hell of avoidance that her home has turned into the past few days. Still, she has no idea where either of them are, but while that may be just fine in regards to Noah, she doesn't exactly love the idea of Bekah being out God knows where doing who knows what. And she's quite sure that Noah doesn't know where she is or who she's with, either.

She puts it out of her mind, though, and instead splurges on a glass of red wine. It's not the worst thing she could put in her body, but she's counting calories intensely, and while there aren't a ton, these particular calories are empty. She doesn't care, though. She needs it. She also needs a bath, which she rarely gets because they only have one bathroom between the three of them. No one's home now, though, and if they happen to show up while she's in her bath, she's not even going to feel bad for making them wait. That's just the kind of mood she's in.

She ends up taking the wine bottle with her to the bathroom and goes through two more glasses after her first. She's going to regret it, but she doesn't care right now. The only thing she cares about is making the nagging sting in her head go away. It starts fading pretty quickly, and she seriously considers falling asleep in the tub. The only reason she decides _against _it is because she'll be awake much later tonight if she naps now, and falling asleep quickly will be her only escape when the rest of her family gets home.

It's after nine when she gets out of the tub and wraps herself in her robe. She doesn't bother putting a towel on her head, she just lets it fall in wet curls around her shoulders. She carries the half-empty bottle and her wine glass back to the kitchen and puts them away, not really bothering to worry about where anyone else is now. She doesn't actually care.

The urge hits her around 9:30, and she knows from the first second that it's a bad idea. She just can't actually force herself to care because it's been a bad idea from the start, and no one else has bothered to think about that. If they don't give a shit, why should she? Besides, turnabout's fair play, right? Or something.

She has Noah's email pulled up and feels only maybe a tenth of the guilt she would if he hadn't done it to her first. His inbox is nowhere near what anyone would call _organized, _and she honestly has to fight the urge to start making folders and fixing it for him. Instead, she scrolls through approximately 100 unread junk messages until she gets to five or six emails from Corcoran, Shelby. She stares at the laptop screen for about thirty seconds before she finally clicks the newest one.

She doesn't want to read them. She honestly has no desire to go snooping through his emails- she needs one thing and one thing only. Luckily, her hunch was right, and she finds what she's looking for in that newest message. Apparently after that, there was no more reason for them to exchange emails.

It takes her approximately another ten minutes to actually hit send on her phone. She's not sure why exactly. She takes the number she got from Noah's email and types it into her phone, but then she just sits there and honestly thinks about it. She knows it's probably a bad idea. She's probably going to make things worse. This is going to cause a fight.

And then she realizes she doesn't care.

"Hello?"

She hears the voice on the other end of the phone, and all of a sudden, she feels a lot drunker than she actually is. It's been a long time since she's heard it, and it's not at all comforting like a 'mother's voice' should be. In fact, it makes her stomach hurt, and she feels really uncomfortable.

"_Hello?"_

"It's Rachel."

She has to force the words out, so when she gets a very simple, "Oh. Hi," in response, she's irrationally angry.

Shelby doesn't even sound surprised to hear her. Maybe Rachel shouldn't be shocked, maybe it would be pretty obvious by the phone number, which is different from Noah's only by the last two digits. And maybe Shelby's been expecting this all along. The thought makes her even angrier.

"Noah doesn't know I'm calling you." She hears herself speaking, but she doesn't try to wrap her head around the fact that her mouth seems to be moving without her brain's permission. "That's okay, though, because he didn't bother telling me when _he _called you, either."

"Rachel-"

"No, just listen." She doesn't care if she's being rude; right now, it's literally the last concern in her mind. "I want you to stay out of my life. You had the option to be here seven years ago, and you didn't want it then, so you don't have it now."

"It wasn't-"

"I said just listen," and her voice is snippy, but she keeps it controlled. "If Noah wants you in his life, I can't help that, but don't hurt him. Just leave him alone if you're not serious because he doesn't deserve to get his hopes up and then have you change your mind."

"Rachel, I know you're mad at me, but Noah has a right to know about Beth."

"I didn't say he didn't!" She immediately lowers her voice. "But I don't appreciate both of you sneaking around and talking to each other behind my back." 

"Be honest. Did _you _want to talk to me?"

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Yes, it does," and she can practically picture Shelby sitting in a living room somewhere in Boston, probably with her own glass of wine. Somehow, she has more trouble picturing Beth in the scenario, so she imagines she's in bed. "Rachel, I knew from the tone of your emails that I was doing more harm than good in trying to reconnect with you. When Noah contacted me, I responded because he has every right in the world to be curious about his daughter."

"She's _not _his daughter." Rachel winces a little bit and realizes that the stinging in her head is back. Apparently the wine is starting to wear off. "She is _your _daughter. Just because they share DNA doesn't mean there's anymore connection between them than there is between you and me."

"But I _want _there to be. I don't want to keep Noah, or Quinn for that matter, in the dark if they want to know about Beth. And I don't want to keep her away from them, either, because I know how it is on the other end when someone tells you that you have no right to know about a child you helped create."

"Well, Quinn _doesn't _want to know," Rachel shoots back, not even feeling a little bit bad about how petty it sounds. "I know this because my husband also called _her _behind my back. And I don't know what you're trying to insinuate about my parents, but they obviously knew what they were doing when they kept you away because when you _did _show up, you didn't do anything but hurt me."

"I am sorry for that." It's obvious that she's not lying, but Rachel still can't feel the sincerity. Maybe she just doesn't want to feel it. "But you have to realize that going sixteen years knowing you have a daughter out there and not being able to know her is _hard. _I wondered every day what you looked like, what your hobbies were, even what you liked to _eat. _And it was hard, Rachel, it was. So I'm not going to force that kind of feeling on anyone if I can help it."

"She's not his daughter, and you're not my mother." Her voice hitches on the last word, and she hates herself for it.

She hangs up then and goes back to the bathroom. She tries to brush her teeth and comb out her hair, but she starts crying before she can accomplish any of it. She hasn't cried much at all surprisingly, probably because she's let herself focus on the anger instead of the hurt, but once she starts, she can't stop. And it's not long before she's literally bending over the counter to hold her head in her hands because she's crying so hard she thinks she might actually be having a panic attack.

It seems like forever before she can actually breathe right, and even then she's still crying much harder than is probably healthy. She just feels exhausted and overwhelmed, and nothing seems okay. The wine's probably not helping, but she can't do anything about it. It's like her mind is racing, and she has no idea how to slow it down. It's not even like she heard anything groundbreaking even anything _new _from Shelby tonight. But it's probably a mix of things.

She's so tired. And she's _lonely._

She's honestly surprised when Noah answers her call. But maybe he assumes something's wrong since they haven't even spoken in three days. He answers it with a semi-tense kind of response, and she chokes on a sob she tries to keep down.

"What's wrong?"

There's no reason for her to be calling him, and she kind of surprises herself when she actually goes through with it. But everything about her hurts right now, and she just wants _him. _

"Where are you?"

"Eating." Like that answers her question. "Rachel, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." She inhales slowly, trying to get her breathing evened out. "Can you just come home? Please?"

There's a long pause on the other end, and then he just says, "Okay."

She calms down some in the twenty-five minutes it takes him to get home. She stops crying and manages to change into some pajamas. She still doesn't dry her hair, but she gets it pulled up into a messy bun that she'll regret like crazy in the morning. She makes a fresh pot of coffee and drinks a cup black.

Noah comes in, and she looks up at him from her place against the kitchen counter. She can tell he's confused, but he walks over to her anyway and seems to be looking her over like he's checking for attack marks or something. When he's close enough, she reaches up with both arms and wraps them around his neck because she needs him to be closer.

He doesn't hug her back, but he does put his hands on her waist and kind of look down at her. She's stopped crying, but she feels that telling tug right behind her eyes, so she stares up at him, trying to make sure that doesn't happen.

"Can we stop fighting?" she asks quietly.

He just keeps his eyes locked on her, and as nervous as that look makes her, it's also insanely comforting because he hasn't really _looked _at her in weeks. "We have a lot of shit to talk about."

He's not lying or exaggerating. Not talking is what got them into this in the first place, so she knows he's telling the truth. But right now, she just wants him to be here and for them to actually be able to look at each other and be in the same room.

"I know. But can we just not fight?"

He nods, and she closes her eyes for a second. When she opens them, he's still looking at her.

"I talked to Shelby." She needs to be honest with him- that's the most important thing right now.

"She wants to bring Beth to New York."

His eyes are searching hers, and she knows he's looking for the slightest hint of apprehension. He doesn't have to look too far, though, because she blinks in honest surprise and tries to tell herself that it's okay and that she can deal with all of this. It's hard, though, because she still hasn't come to grips with the fact that this little girl is someone who is an actual piece of reality. In the back corner of her mind, she still wishes that Beth was just a figment of her imagination. But, of course, she's not.

"Do you want her to?" She holds her breath, waiting for an answer she's not sure she wants to know. He just nods, and she mimics him, trying her best to maintain some level of control. "Okay."

It's not okay. She doesn't want it, and she's never going to want it. But she can't say that. She can't because she needs him, and she needs them to not be fighting. Eventually she might be able to express her full feelings on the matter, but right now, she just needs to be supportive. Because regardless of her own feelings, this is important to Noah, and she has to accept that and support it. That's her job.

"Rachel..." He lets himself trail off, and she waits for whatever he has to say. "I just want to know her, okay? But... I know that she's not mine."

She knows he's bringing up the fact that she accused him of trying to salvage a fantasy world, and she feels terrible. She's felt terrible from the second she said it. He never wanted to give that baby up in the first place, and she knows it. So saying that was just hurtful, and she never should have done it.

"I'm sorry I said that." She doesn't have to spell it out because he already knows what she's talking about.

"We really need to talk."

His arms have moved around her waist at some point, and she feels him pulling her closer. She's never going to get sick of feeling his arms around her like this, not when it feels safer than anywhere else she's ever been. But she nods because he's right. They _do _need to talk- about a lot of stuff. She can't keep bottling up her feelings, and he can't continue to hold his own opinions to himself. They need to talk, and they need to communicate. It has to happen, or things will never get better.

They're allowed to fight, but she was serious when she married him. They're together now, for better or worse. And they can't just _do _this. They can't just shut down and shut each other out and not _talk._

She presses her face against his shoulder, and his arms tighten around her. They're not totally okay yet because he's right, and they both have a lot that needs to be said and discussed. But right now, she just wants to do this. She just wants to be with him and know that he's not going to be making up an excuse to leave and go somewhere else. She wants to be able to exist and not spend every second in awkwardness.

But she's still not okay with all this. She still thinks it's a bad idea. And she still doesn't want anything to do with Shelby Corcoran or her daughter.

She doesn't know how she's going to lie and pretend otherwise.

...


	18. Chapter 18

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 18**

...

It's easier after she finally opens up about the play and all it involves.

She's tried to have this conversation before, but Noah's apparently ready to actually _listen _by now, so she tells him all of it. She tells him the storyline, the background on the characters, the outcome... And she tells him all the details involving sex, nudity, and anything else he might need to know about. He isn't thrilled with the idea, she can tell. He actually comes out and says it, too (in the spirit of honesty, she supposes), so she tells him that it's one-hundred percent professional and that she's seen it from the audience. It really _isn't _that bad, and she's comfortable with it. That's the most important thing. She's fine with it now, and when he sees it, she's sure he'll be fine, too. Or at least she hopes he will.

She really hopes he doesn't go crazy and embarrass her.

They've spent the last week really trying to talk and work things out. Things aren't completely back to normal or resolved, but they're working on it. They're both trying very hard to be honest and to tell each other their real feelings on things because they need that more than they need anything else right now. They're working through it one day at a time, and they're getting there. Slowly but surely.

He's working hard to understand where she's coming from with the play and how she needs to do this in order to prove herself. And she's trying to be understanding and supportive of his newfound relationship with her birth mom. It's hard, though, because she's also trying to convey her _own _thoughts about it, and he doesn't seem to grasp that as easily. Maybe she's not giving him enough credit, though, because it's not like he's doing anything she's asked him not to. She hasn't asked him not to talk to Shelby, and she hasn't tried to keep him from becoming more involved in Beth's life. She _wants _that for him if it's what he wants. It's just hard, and when she tries to explain why, she's not sure that he gets it.

On Thursday, she goes to her final dress rehearsal and pushes any and all thoughts of anything else out of her head. This is it. She can't focus on anything else right now- not Noah, not Shelby, not Bekah, not anything. She can only focus on this show and making sure that she does her very best. _That's _what's important right now, and that's where she puts one-hundred percent of her attention.

They run the show through three times, and by the end of the evening, Rachel feels completely confident that tomorrow is going to go smoothly and that they'll be a success. She's nervous, but it's in a totally good kind of way, and she basically jumps at the opportunity when Clint suggests that the cast go out for drinks.

They've never done this before- hung out together outside of work. Honestly, she doesn't know most of them too well, with the exception of Parker and Clint, of course. Clint knows everyone, though, so she's not surprised when they get to the bar and he's off in a million directions trying to socialize with everyone all at once. Rachel texts Noah to let him know where they are and even invites him out to join them if he wants. He texts her back, though, and says he's tired and has to work early and that he'll just see her at home.

So she ends up basically attached to Parker.

It's funny now, thinking back to just a month ago when she thought he was a douchebag who was stuck on himself. Now they're pretty good friends- at least in her eyes (she's pretty sure he'd agree). She wonders if the rest of the cast sees her the same way she initially saw him, considering the fact that neither of them socialize too much with anyone else. It's hard, though. It's their show (_his _show, really- but hers, too). It's just easy to get wrapped up in each other and forget that anyone else exists.

He's drinking beer, which isn't surprising, and she's sipping (_sipping) _on a vodka cranberry. She has no intentions whatsoever of drinking anything else tonight because the last thing she needs tomorrow is a hangover. She needs to be fresh and on her game, and she wonders if the eighteen year old Rachel Berry who moved to New York with plans to take it by storm would be shocked that she's spending the night before her first real opening hanging out in a bar. Probably. But things have changed, and eighteen year old Rachel Berry was a lot more uptight and naïve than then twenty-three year old version.

Parker forces her to play pool, and she's never been good at it but decides she doesn't actually care too much. He's not that great, either, and she can tell that from the very uneven break that initiates their game.

"Are you nervous?" He's eyeing a solid by the back left pocket and talking without looking at her.

"Not really." It's the truth, too. "I'm only nervous to hear what people think honestly."

"I'm sure the newspapers will say... _Newcomer Rachel Berry sparkles and shines in her stage debut, captivating audiences and stealing their tears with her heart-wrenching portrayal of a hopeless young heroin addict. Her performance leaves the rest of her cast members out in the cold as they struggle to keep up with her flawless ability." _He puts on what may possibly be a British accent for his made-up theatre review, and she rolls her eyes when he shoots and misses his target by six inches.

"I'm pretty sure it'll be something more like... _No one came to see this play, and therefore, no newspapers make mention of it." _

He laughs, and she smiles, lining up her own shot. They can joke about it because it's probably true. No one expects this show to sell out or even last very long, but instead of looking at that as something negative, it just pushes them to put everything they've got into their performances right from the start.

"Someone will review it." He leans against the table as she barely taps the white ball and certainly doesn't accomplish anything. "Where that review will end up... That's a different story."

Parker is very talented, a lot more talented than she originally gave him credit for. In her own defense, it was hard to look past his initial attitude, but now that she knows him and now that they've been working so closely together, she can appreciate that he is a fantastic actor and a fairly talented vocalist as well. She thinks that's part of the reason they work so well together- their strengths balance each other out. His ability is even more impressive considering the fact that he has honestly had no sort of formal training. She has a very expensive college degree to her name, not to mention years and years of private lessons before that, so for him to possess the type of talent he has with _none _of that background is very impressive.

When she gets home that night, Noah and Bekah are lying on opposite ends of the sofa watching what appears to be some documentary on giant wild birds.

She doesn't know, doesn't ask, and just shakes her head and sits down in the armchair.

"What the hell is this?" she asks as she watches one of those giant birds swoop down from the sky and literally devour a groundhog mid-air.

They both shrug, and she sees the remote on the table beside her chair. That explains so much- _clearly _it is too far away for either of them to make an effort and change the channel. She looks over at them, and it's one of those moments when she wishes she had a camera because they look far too much alike right now- both lazy and bored and obviously unmotivated enough to just lie on the couch and do absolutely nothing else.

It's Bekah's last week of summer vacation, and she's done a pretty good job of doing absolutely _nothing _for the past several days. She hasn't even been going out that much the past few days, which is odd but also definitely a good thing. Rachel finds it much easier to sleep when she knows Bekah's at home and knows she has no plans of going anywhere else.

So she's not going to _complain _when she comes home and finds her on the couch- even if she _does _have to watch freakishly huge birds murder small animals.

She wakes up when Noah's alarm goes off the next morning.

He's only got to work until noon, but it still makes her nervous because she feels like there's a lot to do today. Most of those things, of course, don't actually involve Noah, but she feels better knowing he's available if she needs something. Her dads are coming for the opening, and their plane gets in around four. No one has to pick them up from the airport or anything, but Rachel would prefer it if someone was there to at least meet them at the hotel. She'll already be at the theatre by then for a last-minute vocal rehearsal, so she reminds Noah while he's shaving.

"I got it." He looks at her in the mirror, and she feels better when he gives her a little smile. "You just focus on being awesome, and I'll take care of the parents."

She's starting to get really nervous, which she honestly didn't anticipate. It hits her that it's happening _tonight, _and that even if it _is _a tiny little play that will end up having no significance whatsoever on American theatre, it's still the first opportunity she's got to show everyone that she _can _succeed on a New York stage. And that's very nerve-wracking all of a sudden.

She goes running after Noah leaves for work, and she tries to put herself in a zone where she completely blocks out everything besides the slight drizzle that's falling from the sky and the music on her iPod. She just needs to relax and escape, and running three miles helps her accomplish that.

Bekah's up and making breakfast when she gets home. She's actually cooking, which is shocking because she rarely makes anything more than a bowl of cereal. But she's scrambling eggs and has three slices of bacon in a skillet. Any semblance of a kosher lifestyle has long since been forgotten (not that they ever actually observed it in the first place...). Rachel will admit that it smells good, but a lot of that is probably due to the fact that there's basically a giant hole in her stomach where food's supposed to go. The only good thing about the constant dieting is that her body hardly feels hunger anymore- it's more just a total numbness.

She goes straight for the coffee that's been on the warmer since before Noah left, and Bekah asks her if she wants any toast. She declines and pulls the other half of yesterday's grapefruit out of the refrigerator. She sits on the counter while Bekah finishes cooking, and then they eat together and talk about nothing in particular. Bekah asks her if she's nervous about tonight, and she admits that she is, but Bekah tells her she's sure it'll be awesome and sounds so much like her brother that it's a little scary.

She spends the rest of the day trying not to think about her nerves. Instead, she asks Bekah to play for her while she goes over her songs a few times, and then she sits and listens while Bekah plays her latest concert piece, which she claims is the most difficult thing she's ever done. It's a Ligeti piece, and that basically means nothing to Rachel, but Bekah goes on and on about how difficult it is and how 'kickass' it's going to be if she actually manages it.

Before long, though, she has to leave for the theatre and the last of her rehearsals. Bekah hugs her and tells her good luck, and Rachel grabs her bag and heads for the door.

Opening night is not as glamorous as she always imagined it would be. Of course, in her fantasies, opening night always coincided with a media frenzy and photo ops and actual Broadway. The off-off-Broadway opening nights are nothing like that and basically just amount to, well, the first night of a show. She spends a couple of hours in final rehearsals, and then she goes to her dressing room to get ready. There are still two hours to curtain, but she's happy for the alone time.

Noah calls her while she's sitting at her makeup table trying to decide if she wants to go ahead and get started. He tells her that her dads are in and that they're checked into the hotel. Then he asks her how she's feeling, and she has to really struggle to keep composed because the nerves she's been fighting off all day are back on full force.

"I'm a little scared."

"You're gonna kick so much ass, though, it's not even funny."

She smiles a little bit, even though she doesn't feel much better. "I wish you were here," she says quietly, and she looks down at her thumb as she chews on the nail.

"I'd be distracting you and shit, and you probably need to meditate or something, don't you?"

"Have you ever seen me meditate?"

She hears him laugh, and she rolls her eyes. "Yoga then. Do some of that, and text me some pictures."

She laughs because she can't help it, and she's thankful that his perviness provides _some _kind of distraction from the current situation because when she looks at the clock and sees that it's already 6:45, she feels a little bit ill.

The show goes great, probably better than they've ever run it. Besides one minor lighting error in the middle of the first act, everything goes smoothly, and there are basically no disasters. Parker finds her backstage during intermission and tells her, "Seriously, you are so talented, it's stupid," which makes her laugh _and _reminds her that he's twenty-one. She hugs him during curtain call because he basically left the whole damn theatre in tears from what she can tell, and that's got to be some kind of major accomplishment.

Clint hugs them _both _once they're backstage after the show. She can tell he's super excited, and she can't really blame him because he's put a lot into this show and has a lot riding on it. He's told them that a few times, mentioned producers that he wants to work with and how he's worked hard to line them up with tickets. She's glad that the did well, both for them and for him because he really deserves it. He's incredibly talented, and she's very thankful to have had him as her first 'real' director. He gives them the final ticket count, which sounds low but is still pretty impressive when they consider how small the venue is. He tells them it's a successful opening, and even though she doesn't know much about the business side of theatre, she believes him.

She gets dressed and heads back out front to find her family. One day, she'll be in a show where she can head to stage door and sign autographs, but this isn't it. At this very moment, she's thankful for that because all she wants to do is see her family and find out what they thought.

They're all waiting for her in the pretty much otherwise deserted lobby, and she's surprised by the little nudge of embarrassment she feels because even though her parents have always been supportive of her and appreciative of theatre, they've never actually seen her do anything like _that. _But that thought disappears from her head when she sees them smiling and hears them say how proud they are of her.

Noah and Bekah are there, too, of course, and she hugs them both at the same time, semi-avoiding eye-contact because she's still nervous about Noah's reaction. She doesn't feel anything negative when he hugs her, and he sounds sincere when he tells her she was amazing. But she's still nervous, wondering what he _really _thought and how he _really _feels about the whole thing.

Most surprisingly, though, is Santana who's standing there with the rest of her family. She kind of raises her eyebrows, and Rachel can't help it, she smiles and hugs her. Santana hugs her back and kind of asks lowly in her ear, "Are we cool?" And Rachel nods because they can work it out, and she really misses having a best friend.

They go out to dinner as a group, and everyone gives Rachel their opinions on the show and on her performance. She loves the compliments and basically can't stop smiling the entire time. Noah's fairly quiet, but he sits beside her and holds her hand under the table when she grabs it. Before long, though, it's pretty late, and her parents are tired and saying they need to get back to the hotel. Bekah asks if she can stay with Pria, and no one tells her she can't. Santana tells them goodnight and tells Rachel they need to get together next week sometime because she has some "awesome gossip."

So that just leaves Rachel with Noah and a fifteen minute cab ride back to their building.

She's still nervous, but she feels better when he drapes an arm around her shoulder and pulls her across the seat to sit closer to him. He pushes the hair away from the ear closest to him, and she thinks for a second that he's going to kiss her. He doesn't, though. He just leans his head down and lowers his voice to where their driver can't hear him.

"I'm really fucking sorry."

She turns her head and looks up at him. He looks so serious, and she's not even one-hundred percent sure what this is all about. He must pick up on her confusion because he elaborates some.

"I never should have said that shit about your play. It was incredible... Rachel, I'm so fucking proud of you."

"You're not mad?" She can't help it. She's _still _nervous about his reaction.

"No, I'm a fucking jackass."

They still have _so _much to talk about. This play is only a tiny part of their existing problem, and they both know it. But he tells her how talented she is and how amazing she was tonight, and by the time they get home, she really can't get him up the stairs fast enough.

He keeps saying things in her ear the whole time she's taking off his clothes, telling her that she's going to be a star and that no one even breathed in the theatre when she was singing, and it's all the right thing to say. He probably knows that, but she doesn't hold it against him. If he's using a little (a lot of) flattery to get her worked up, she's not going to blame him. He knows what she likes to hear, and if he uses it to his advantage, she can't really say too much.

"You're so fucking beautiful." And he doesn't say anything about her weight or her obvious thinness when he grabs the bottom of her dress and pulls it over her head. She knows she's too skinny and that her ribs can easily be counted now, but he doesn't comment on it. She honestly doesn't feel sexy in the least anymore, but he's still looking at her like he thinks she's gorgeous, and she loves him for it.

He kisses her and picks her up at the same time, and she loves that- she loves how strong he is. She doesn't even care when he drops her a little too roughly down onto the bed, and honestly all she wants is for him to hurry the hell up and join her. He doesn't disappoint, of course, and she giggles a little when his fingers brush that ticklish spot right on the side of her stomach. He tells her she's cute and then whispers something really filthy in her ear when he rolls on top of her.

She's honestly not in the mood for anything sweet or gentle or _slow _right now, and he bites down on her shoulder a little when she tells him this. "Don't," she manages, even though it's the _perfect _mix of pleasure and pain. "No marks." It's not even a full sentence, but he understands her incoherency enough to nod. He saw her play tonight- he knows how much she _doesn't _wear for it. She can't have hickeys or bite marks or bruises or anything, and he gets that.

She's little, and sometimes he's stronger than he thinks. She bruises kind of easily, so it's not that big of a deal, but the realization that she's going to be performing again tomorrow and the next day and the next however many days after that makes both of them slow down just a little. She's so _impatient, _though, because even though they've obviously been getting along better lately, there hasn't been an overabundance of anything physical happening. It's _happened, _but neither of them have been too eager or too into it.

But right now, she just wants to be _fucked, _and she tells him that.

He gives her exactly what she asks for, and she's really super thankful for Pria and whatever illegal activities the rest of those kids are getting up to at the moment because Bekah being home right now would _not _be a good thing. She's pretty sure she hears the witch downstairs banging on the ceiling with her broom again, but she doesn't even care. That crazy old woman should be in bed by now anyway, and whatever. Maybe they're not being _quiet, _but they're _not _being loud enough to wake someone up.

In true man fashion, he's too tired to even move afterward, and she's pretty sure he actually falls asleep for a few minutes while he's still _inside _her. She pushes his shoulder when she feels her air supply being cut off by his weight, and he wakes up long enough to roll off of her and fall back against his pillow. She leans up and looks at him, wondering for probably the thousandth time how he can just _sleep _like that. She seriously doesn't get it.

He looks so _beautiful _like that, and she definitely can't _tell _him that because beautiful isn't exactly a word he'd take as a compliment. But it's the truth. His eyelashes are so dark against his skin, and his lips are a little redder than usual and parted just slightly. He's not snoring or anything, and his chest is just barely moving up and down. He's a little sweaty, but mostly he just looks like this innocent little boy that hasn't actually _existed _in probably more than a decade.

She wakes up later that night because he's got a hand on her stomach and his mouth at her ear. "Rachel..."

She assumes he just wants round two, and she's just about to tell him off for waking her up, but she doesn't because he starts kissing that weak spot right behind her ear. She turns her head and looks at him, her eyes squinting in the dark to try and actually focus.

"I love you." It's just simple and to the point, and she smiles a little bit when he says, "More than anything else, okay?"

She gives him a barely there nod, and then her eyes close again. She feels him kiss her, but she's asleep before he finishes.

…

A/N: Don't worry, the drama's not over yet... Thanks to everyone who has left feedback for the past few chapters. I know a lot of people think Rachel's the one making all the sacrifices and that it all seems pretty one-sided, but just keep in mind that this is _Rachel's _point of view. It's something they've got to work on together, and we'll get to see more of the Shelby/Beth story coming up.


	19. Chapter 19

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 19**

...

The play starts selling out.

It's not the hugest accomplishment known to man or anything, considering the theatre is basically the size of an office cubicle, but it's still pretty damn amazing. It also pretty much guarantees them a fairly good run, since the theatre's not going to pull the production while it's filling the venue. It was originally scheduled for a six week run, but two weeks into the show, they got changed to open-ended.

It's kind of awesome.

She's got a lot more time on her hands now, since they only run rehearsals once or twice a week. Other than that, she doesn't even have to be at the theatre until six or seven. That leaves all day for her to do basically nothing. Bekah's back in school, and Noah's got eighteen hours this semester. When he's not in school, he's at work, so it feels like she hardly gets to see him anymore. Santana's in school, too- back for her second year of law school even though she clearly doesn't want to be there. Her parents weren't happy with her suggestion of dropping out, and she caved to them. Rachel thinks it's a little pathetic, but she knows she would cave to her own parents, too.

She actually ends up spending a lot of time with Parker even when they're not working. She's not sure how appropriate it is, but there's _nothing _between them. They're just friends, and she doesn't have a ton of those anymore. She has Santana, and she has a few friends from college that are still in the city, but she never sees them and rarely talks to them. She's around Parker every day, though, and they start getting closer and closer.

They have lunch together sometimes, and he occasionally comes over so that they can run their music together. Noah knows about it, so it's not like she's hiding anything. He's met Parker and said he seems "okay," and he apparently trusts her enough to _know _she's not doing anything stupid or underhanded. Or maybe he just assumes Parker's gay in the grand tradition of theatre.

She calls him for brunch on a Wednesday and then makes him go shopping with her for a baby present. Destiny's shower is next week, and while she can't actually _attend, _she still wants to buy something great. Honestly, she can't believe the baby's almost here already. It seems like just yesterday that she was sitting in a coffee shop with Santana and Noah looking at ultrasound pictures on a laptop screen. Now it's the middle of September, and the baby's due the second week of October.

A little girl- Sydney Grace, if nothing changes between now and then. Rachel's kind of sad that she's missing out on it all. She and Destiny are fairly good friends, and obviously she cares about Finn a lot. So it bothers her that she's not there for their shower and to see the nursery or even to feel the baby kick. The gift registry is all purple and yellow, which is crazy in itself because Destiny basically personifies the color pink. But everything's so cute and girly, and Rachel's just the tiniest bit envious.

Someday...

She's walking around a baby store looking at everything from clothes to carseats, and Parker's following, totally uninterested with a Starbucks cup in one hand and his iPhone in the other. She wants to tell him to pay attention and help, but then she tries to imagine him offering his opinion on strollers and highchairs and decides she's better off making her own decisions.

She finds _the _most adorable dress, and even though she knows buying clothes for a baby shower is cliché and largely unnecessary, she can't help herself. She'll buy them something practical, too, but this dress is just too much to pass up.

She ends up buying two dresses and a Pack and Play that will ship straight to their house. She spends $158, and Noah's going to kill her. Or maybe she won't tell him. He shouldn't be so cheap anyway- it's his best friend's first baby.

She drags Parker with her to Starbucks because she needs a coffee right now in the worst kind of way, and they sit together at a table and quietly make fun of people. She shouldn't be doing that, of course, because it's rude, but some people just make it too easy. She sees him eyeing a girl at the counter, though, and she's been around both Noah and Santana enough to know what checking out a girl looks like. She almost rolls her eyes at how easily the thought enters her head, but she refrains. Instead, it makes her wonder why Parker doesn't have a girlfriend- why he never even _talks _about girls.

"You should ask her out," she says, sipping on her drink and rubbing her lips together. Parker just looks at her, and she shrugs. "She's pretty."

"You don't just _ask people out," _he gives her a strange look. "That's weird."

"Well, you should at least talk to her." Rachel watches as the girl laughs at something the barista is saying. "She's pretty."

"She's okay."

"And it's not _weird." _She kind of rolls her eyes because he's just an idiot.

"Okay, number one, you don't know because you've been with the same guy since you were like twelve. And second of all, yes. It is."

She rolls her eyes again and shakes her head, not bothering to correct him. Although, it _does _make her think back to being twelve. And also to think back to _Noah _being twelve. She almost laughs when she tries to imagine those two people having _any _sort of decent interaction.

"You should talk to her," she says again. "Obviously you think she's attractive."

"She's _pretty, _yeah, but..."

"But what?"

Parker just shrugs. "She's probably not my type."

"You don't even _know _her!"

"I can tell. She's too fake."

Rachel doesn't know how he knows anything at all about that girl, up to and including her level of genuineness. She doesn't even bother pointing this out, though- she just says, "What _is _your type exactly?"

Parker doesn't answer right away. But a few seconds later, he kind of smirks at her and lifts both shoulders. "I would date _you. _You know, if you weren't..."

"What? Married?"

"I was going to say _old, _but yeah, married works, too."

She can't help but laugh, and she reaches over to smack his shoulder. He smiles at her, and she knows he's just joking around. He flirts with her sometimes, but he's not serious. They're just friends, and she likes having someone to kid around with.

Noah's home before she leaves for the theatre that night, and they actually get to have dinner together for once. He tells her some story about how terrible things have been at school lately and how he's really starting to struggle. She knows his schedule is crazy this semester, but he's trying to get done this year. Still, he shouldn't kill himself trying to make it all work, so she tells him to cut back on his class load if he needs to.

"I just want to finish college before _Bekah _does." He sounds exhausted and exasperated, and she bites back a smile at his dramatics when his forehead literally hits the table.

It's funny because he's pulling a page from her book, but it's also a little sad because she knows he's frustrated. He missed so much school when his mom died, and if none of that had happened, he would have most likely graduated when she did. She's glad he actually went back, but she knows it bothers him that he's so far behind even though it's not his fault.

He's in a pretty terrible mood, so she doesn't make him help clean up or anything- not that there's a lot to clean up anyway, just some takeout boxes and a couple of glasses. She takes care of it and then finds him on the sofa with his laptop and a history textbook open beside him. He looks stressed and irritated, and she feels bad for him honestly. She knows he's working his ass off, and she really wishes he'd just slow down a little bit before he burns himself completely out or something.

He's asleep in the very same spot when she gets home after her show.

That weekend, he fills her in on plans that have apparently been taking place while she's not around. Shelby and Beth are, in fact, coming to New York, and Noah actually asks Rachel if she can get tickets to her show because apparently Shelby "really wants to see it." Rachel is making a real honest effort to _not _be a total bitch, so she just says she'll try and leaves out the part where she really wants to say that Shelby's about twenty-three years too late if she "really wants to see" her in stuff. She doesn't say it because it's not fair and also because they're trying this thing where they listen to each other and try to be supportive and understanding.

Honestly, she has no real opinion at this point. The New York trip was mentioned weeks ago, and she's basically known it was going to happen ever since then. She's not exactly _thrilled, _but she's trying not to be totally negative. Just because she has no desire to hang out and have coffee with Shelby Corcoran does not mean she has any right to tell Noah he shouldn't be able to see Beth.

She _does, _however, tell him that she's a little worried about how things will actually play out.

Beth is seven. That's a really odd age because she's not a baby and, therefore, not oblivious to the situation. They can't just tell her it's normal and expect her to buy it. On the other hand, it's still too young to fully grasp everything that's going on, and it's a little much to expect that she'll just adapt to it with no issue. Maybe she will. But Rachel thinks they're pushing their luck just assuming that she's going to be just fine with everything.

"She knows all about it." Noah's not really overly defensive when she brings it up, but she can tell that he's already had the same thoughts and has a list of reasons he's used to convince himself that everything will be just fine. "She's always known she was adopted."

Rachel tries to think back to when she was seven. She, too, was always well-aware of her family's non-traditional formation. She knew that she had a mother somewhere who she didn't know, and she knew that her parents were different from all the other parents at school. She loved her parents then as much as she does now, but when she was seven, she used to lay in bed and just wish for her mother to come see her. It was hard to understand why she _didn't _honestly because everyone else had mothers who came to school parties and dance recitals and award ceremonies. Rachel really wanted that, too, even though she had two parents who loved her completely.

But would she honestly have been able to _handle _it at seven? She could barely handle it at sixteen. No amount of wishing and daydreaming prepared her for the reality of a woman who gave birth to her and looked just like her walking back into her life unexpectedly. It was hard, and she can't imagine that Beth's reaction will be much different.

But maybe she's wrong.

She talks to her dad about it while Noah's at work one morning, and he basically tells her that she needs to stay out of it. That's not at all what she expects, nor does she think it's remotely accurate, considering the fact that despite the fact that it's not her _child, _Shelby's still her _mother, _and Noah's still her _husband. _So it's her business no matter what anyone else says, and she tells him that.

"I have a right to voice my opinion."

"You've done that, Rachel." Her dad sounds irritated with her, which is ridiculous because it's certainly not as if she's spent hours on the phone whining to him about it or anything. "He knows your feelings on the subject, but it's still his decision. And there's nothing you can do about that."

"I can still say whatever I want to say," and she doesn't even care if she sounds a little hateful when she says it. She's an adult, and she doesn't appreciate anyone- her father or anyone else- trying to tell her to stay out of something that obviously very much affects her. "Noah and I have talked about it plenty."

"Yes, I'm aware." She's not sure how, actually, considering the fact that she's only mentioned it in very brief passing to her parents. Of course, Noah and her dad are not-so-secret BFFs, and she really shouldn't even be surprised that _he's _the one spilling all the details.

It bugs her that they've clearly been discussing her behind her back, and she doesn't bother hiding it. "And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't gossip about me with my husband."

She thinks she can _hear _a smile in the reply, and it irritates her even more. "That's a little bit dramatic, sweetheart."

Now she just feels patronized, so she lies and tells him that she has to go to rehearsal and hangs up.

Needless to say, she's not in the best mood when the secretary at Bekah's school calls and asks if she's sick. Considering the fact that it's after eleven and Bekah left the apartment at eight... She's skipping. She should be at school, and she's obviously not, which means she's somewhere in the city with who knows who doing who knows what.

And that's exactly what Rachel tells the school.

She's very much aware that Bekah will get an unexcused absence and very possibly get in trouble for skipping school, but she doesn't care. She _deserves _to get in trouble for it, and she's sure as hell going to be in trouble when she gets home. Rachel doesn't even care that Noah's not there. She's in charge, too, and she's sick of this. It's like they'll have weeks of nothing but good things, and then out of nowhere, Bekah will just do something stupid and ruin it. Maybe it's not fair because she's generally _not _ a bad kid, but she basically has no rules, and the rules that she _does _have come with no consequences. And Rachel's just over it.

She waits until she knows Bekah should be in lunch and calls her. She knows she'll answer because it's not unusual for Rachel to call during that time if she needs to ask her something or tell her something. And when Bekah answers, Rachel just plays dumb and asks her how school is going.

"Boring. I'm ready for the day to be over." Bekah doesn't miss a beat, and if Rachel didn't know otherwise, she'd really have no idea that she wasn't actually sitting in her school cafeteria. As it is, though...

"Cut the shit, Bekah. The school called. Get here now." And then she just hangs up because she's in no mood to bargain or listen to Bekah try a million different excuses as to why she's not currently in school.

She does the dishes while she waits, and she's almost positive that Bekah's taking extra time that she doesn't need just because she doesn't want to come home. It's irritating, and Rachel has every intention of calling her on it. The longer she waits, the more irritated she gets, and by the time she _finally _hears the door unlock, any and all easy thoughts are out the window.

Bekah comes in alone, which isn't surprising even though Rachel _knows _she didn't skip alone. She looks a little worried, probably just because she knows she's been caught and that she can't really lie her way out of it. She's probably going to try, though- she'll _definitely _try.

"I forgot a chemistry assignment." She starts making excuses the second she gets in the door. "If I went to class without it, I'd get a zero, so I just left before. I was going to go back."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Well, now you'll definitely get a zero."

"You didn't tell them I was skipping, did you?" Bekah kind of looks like she's in shock, which is just dumb because Rachel has no idea why she'd think anything different.

"I told them you were supposed to be there."

"Now I'm not going to be able to make it up!" Bekah's mouth is half-open, and she's staring at Rachel like she's just ruined her life or something. "And we were supposed to have a quiz today in Spanish! I won't get to make that up, either!"

Rachel just shrugs because she honestly does not care. "Maybe you should have thought about all of that beforehand."

"You could have told them I was sick or something!"

"Why would I lie for you, Bekah? You were supposed to be in school." She is getting seriously pissed off, and Bekah just keeps getting closer and closer to borderline hysterical.

"Because you're supposed to be my friend!"

"I _am _your friend." She crosses her arms and holds her ground. "But I'm also trying to make sure you don't end up dead or in jail somewhere along the way. So you're grounded."

Bekah just stares at her. The hysteria is gone, and now she just looks like she's in honest shock or something. It takes maybe twenty seconds of silence before she's shaking her head in disbelief. "You can't _ground _me."

It's exactly the reaction Rachel expects, so she hardly even blinks. "Watch me. Give me your phone."

"No." And any type of hysteria is immediately replaced with one-hundred percent teenage attitude.

"Fine. I'll have it cut off. And you can pay the reconnection fee when you're allowed to have it back." Rachel pulls out her own phone to do just that.

"Oh, my god, you're such a bitch." And Bekah grabs her phone from her pocket and practically throws it at Rachel. "_Here." _

Rachel ignores the bitch comment and calmly tucks the phone into her pocket. "You can have it back in a week. Unless you continue to break rules between now and then."

Bekah's full out glaring at her now, and she shakes her head. "I can't wait til my brother gets home."

"Why? You're still going to be grounded."

"Yeah, bet me." And Bekah stomps to her room then and slams the door. She doesn't have a lock, but Rachel can hear her dragging her dresser to block the entrance. She does that whenever she's particularly angry and also probably whenever she wants to do something illegal in her room or hide people who aren't supposed to be in there.

Rachel ignores her. It's not worth it. Instead, she just keeps her calm and walks to her own bedroom to put the phone away. Part of her considers hiding it just because there's a tiny part of her that is afraid Bekah's right and that Noah's going to come home and completely undo everything that just happened.

Thankfully, that doesn't happen.

Rachel makes sure to get to him first and fills him in on everything that happened, so he's fully aware of the situation by the time he gets home. Bekah assaults him pretty immediately, and he basically tells her to fuck off and that she deserves it.

Rachel's honestly a little surprised because she expected Noah to defend the skipping school at least a _little, _considering the fact that he spent more days in high school _not _there than he spent actually in the building. Bekah knows this, too, and she has no problem trying to use his past against him on the rare occasions that he actually tries to 'parent' her. He's never followed through on any threats or consequences, though, and this is probably seriously the first time Bekah's been grounded since she was maybe eleven.

She is _not _happy about it.

She goes into full on drama queen mode and starts shrieking that they're both hypocrites and that she wishes she didn't have to live with them because they're such assholes. Then she goes on her usual rant to highlight anything and everything that either of them did as a teenager or since, and Rachel just ignores her because she's starting to feel like she's just in the mood to fight right now, and this probably isn't the best situation for it. Noah doesn't ignore her, though, and they scream at each other for a good ten minutes while Rachel folds towels from yesterday's clean laundry.

In the end, Bekah goes back to her room after yelling that she hopes they both go to hell, and Noah grabs a few towels and sits down to help fold.

Just an average night...

"She'll get over it." He sets an unevenly folded towel down on top of the pile, and Rachel resists the urge to pick it up and redo it.

"I don't care if she gets over it or not." And it's the truth. "She doesn't need to think she can just do whatever she wants all the time and get away with it. That's not real life."

"Yeah. I know. I let her do too much shit, but I mean, I don't know what the hell I'm doing half the time."

She shouldn't be irritated with him, but she is. She understands completely that he didn't sign up to parent a sixteen year old, but neither did she. That's what they've got, though, and they definitely aren't doing the most fantastic job in the world. Maybe they're not doing the _worst, _but they sure as hell could be doing better. There's a reason why so many of Bekah's friends like to hang out at their apartment, and that reason basically comes down to _no rules. _She's the only one who doesn't have overbearing parents apparently, and all of her friends want to take advantage of that. But it's ridiculous. She _needs _some kind of actual rule enforcement, or she's going to end up doing something much worse than just skipping school.

Rachel goes to the theatre that night in a worse mood than usual. She avoids everyone she can before the show, hiding out in her dressing room and not coming out until her call for vocal warmups. She doesn't really feel like socializing with anyone, so she's glad that people apparently sense this and leave her alone.

Parker finds her just before curtain and asks if she's okay. She says she is and that she's just stressed. He kind of raises an eyebrow but shoulder bumps her anyway and tells her to break a leg. It's become a running joke since he fell off-stage a week after opening and twisted his ankle pretty badly. Then two days later, she tripped over a speaker cord and ended up with a huge bruise on her knee. So now they're basically just waiting to see which one of them _actually _breaks a leg first.

The show goes pretty smoothly. There are no major hangups, and they get a good reaction out of the audience. It feels nice to hear the applause and appreciation of a crowd, no matter what size, and she really enjoys the fact that people like their work and find them worthy of a good reaction. One of her favorite things about being on stage, though, is the fact that she's able to completely lose herself in her character. She actually gets to _become _someone else, and it makes it very easy to forget anything in her real life that's stressing her out or worrying her.

When she's off stage, though, and back in her dressing room putting her street clothes back on, she starts thinking about Bekah again. She can't help worrying about her- she's not a child anymore, but she's still young. It's _their _responsibility to make sure that she doesn't end up getting herself into trouble. Rachel's really not sure why she's suddenly so fed up, though, because Bekah's rule-bending is certainly nothing new, but she just feels like she's at a point where she can't worry about pandering to a nearly grown kid when another kid is prepped to enter her life very shortly.

She has a feeling her life is about to get a lot more complicated.

…

A/N: Up next, the Corcorans.


	20. Chapter 20

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 20**

...

She and Noah get into a fairly stupid fight the morning that Shelby and Beth are supposed to be traveling to New York.

Actually, it's _completely _stupid to fight over crumbs in the toaster, but there might be some added tension there that raises nerve endings to a point they probably don't need to be. So it happens. She finds crumbs in the bottom of the toaster and yells for him to come into the kitchen. Then she just goes off and starts exaggerating a little bit, saying that the apartment is a total mess and that he and his sister never clean anything and that she's sick of living in a pig stye all the time. And yes, it's a little dramatic. So sue her.

Noah _doesn't _sue her, but he _does _tell her she's being crazy, which he _knows _is one of the worst things he could say to her. She hates when people say that, and he only does it when he's purposely trying to piss her off. It makes her say a lot more back to him, which causes the fight to get even worse, and before she knows it, she's grabbing her keys and storming out of the apartment like a child. Whatever. At this point, she doesn't even care.

She calls Santana while she's walks aimlessly around the neighborhood and asks if she wants to go shopping. Retail therapy might be her best option right now because she's getting irritated at everything for basically no reason whatsoever. Also, it will give her something to do besides sit around and think about what she might be forced into tonight or tomorrow or _whenever. _Santana tells her she's got class until noon and that's free after that, so Rachel goes to the music store a few blocks over and digs through some sheet music, checking to see if there's anything new or interesting that she might need to be made aware of.

There's not.

It kills time, though, and she heads for the subway around 11:30. She actually beats Santana back to her building, so she sits outside on the steps even though the lock on the front door is still broken. She only has to wait a few minutes, though, and then she follows Santana up to her room to drop off her books and change out of the hoodie she wore to class that morning.

None of Rachel's clothes actually fit her anymore since she lost weight, so she needs new jeans and maybe some other things. She's been wearing more dresses lately because she can fake those as fitting, and when she needs jeans or something else, she's been stealing Bekah's that are way too long. She can't do that forever, though, and it's already starting to get colder. She learned a long time ago that while skirts and dresses may still hold her heart, they aren't practical for this city when the weather starts changing. So she _needs _jeans.

Santana makes her go to this boutique that she swears specializes in "little people clothing." Rachel glares at her when she initially says it and has a flash of a store that sells nothing but clothes for actual little people. That's not what it is, though, and Santana's not lying when she promises that they'll have a huge selection of things that will actually _fit _Rachel.

She's not the one who brings the impending visitors up- that's Santana, and she asks about it while she sits on the bench in the dressing room and watches Rachel try on approximately ten different pairs of jeans.

"So, today's the big day?"

Rachel wants to pretend like she didn't hear her, but the whole dressing room is literally about five feet, so that's impossible. Instead, she keeps her face as blank as possible and keeps her eyes fixed on her own reflection. "They're supposed to be getting in today, but I don't know when we're supposed to see them." That's the truth. She's assuming that Noah will be in charge of that, as he's the one actually speaking to Shelby.

"So you _are _going to meet them?"

"I'll have to at one point or another." Rachel still just continues to calmly examine the clothes she's trying on. "I plan on being at work a lot."

"Yeah, you can hide out with your new boyfriend."

Rachel breaks her stony stance for a second then and turns around to glare at Santana. "He's not my boyfriend."

"He's cute."

"Santana." And she levels her with a look that basically says _shut the fuck up _because she doesn't think it's even funny to joke about things like that, especially not since several people in their show apparently think it's true.

"Jesus, I'm just kidding. What the hell does Puck say about that anyway?"

"I think he assumes he's gay." She turns back to the mirror and unbuttons the jeans she's currently wearing while reaching for a new pair. "Either way, he doesn't care."

Santana makes some kind of noise that leads Rachel to think that she doesn't honestly believe that, but whatever. He _doesn't _care, or at least he's never _said _that he cares. And he really has no right to have a problem with it, considering the fact that Rachel accepts him and Santana as friends when they actually _do _have a history. She and Parker don't have any kind of history that dates any further back than the start of this play. They're just friends- that's all they've ever been and all they'll ever be. So it's annoying when people make comments like that.

"That kid's kind of hot, though, for real." Santana keeps talking even though Rachel hoped she might actually get a clue and shut up. "But he seems like a total douche."

Rachel rolls her eyes because Santana's only been around Parker maybe twice, and yet she still thinks she knows enough to base an opinion. "He only acts like that around people he doesn't know."

"So, like everyone besides you basically."

And Rachel rolls her eyes again because she doesn't see why should have to justify Parker's behavior to anyone. He has no obligation to be nice to her friends, and Santana isn't exactly the friendliest person in the world to begin with.

She goes home with four pairs of jeans, two new shirts, and a pair of heels she doesn't need but that make her legs look awesome.

Noah's not there when she gets home, and Bekah's got after-school tutoring, so she's not home, either. Rachel has calmed down considerably since the stupid fight from this morning, so she calls Noah's phone while she's putting the new things away and is glad to hear that he's not hateful with her when he answers.

"Hey, I just got home."

"Where'd you go?" She can't really tell where he is, but there's a lot of noise in the background that makes hearing him a little difficult.

"Out with Santana. We went shopping. Where are you?"

"Starbucks."

"When are you coming home?"

"Later. I have to go to the library for a study group."

"Before I have to leave?"

"Probably not."

She tries not to sigh too audibly. She knows he's not even being an ass right now; he probably just really has to study. She still misses him, though, and still wishes he wasn't so busy so that she could see him more. They won't get to be newlyweds forever, and she doesn't want to miss it while it's happening.

"I'll see you when you get home," he tells her, probably sensing that she's a little upset. "Wake me up if I'm asleep."

"Okay." She tries to keep her disappointment to a minimum.

"I love you."

She barely manages to mumble, "Love you, too," in return.

He's asleep when she gets home that night, and she can tell he's exhausted by how heavily he's sleeping. He doesn't even stir when she comes in or when she turns on the lamp so that she can change clothes without injuring herself. Part of her really does want to wake him up because she wants a little alone time with him, but he looks so tired and out of it that she honestly can't bring herself to disturb him. She just quietly rearranges the blankets that he's kicked almost off the bed, and then she climbs underneath them and rolls over until her face is pressed against the back of his neck. She closes her eyes and lets herself just lie like that, breathing in the way he smells like fresh from the shower soap and trying really hard to just shut her brain completely off.

The next morning, she wakes up with his hand on her hip and his lips on her ear. "Rach, I gotta go."

She sits straight up and finds herself fully awake. "No." She stares at him, already full-dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, and she's not really sure _why _she's suddenly so desperate to make him stay.

"I gotta go to class." He pushes some hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ear. She knows it's probably a total mess, considering the fact that she's slept on it all night. "Why didn't you wake me up last night?"

"You were too tired." She must be pouting because he's looking at her in that half-sympathetic/half-amused way he always does when her inner-six year old comes out. She wraps her arms around his neck and pushes her face into his shoulder. "Don't go to class."

He laughs a little, probably because she's encouraging him to skip school not too long after she grounded his sister for doing the same thing. But whatever, it's not the same thing. She doesn't want him to leave.

"I have to, Rachel..." He slides a hand up her back, and she's almost positive she can get him to do what she wants if she tries hard enough.

Really, she _knows _she can.

She crawls over him to stand up, purposely getting up on his side of the bed because it will make everything else much easier. He probably assumes she's just getting up to go to the bathroom or something, and she's pleasantly surprised when he follows suit and stands up behind her.

"Just be late." She turns around and looks at him, this time pushing her lip all the way out into an intentional pout.

He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again when she reaches between them to undo the button of his jeans. He looks up at her like _maybe _he's going to tell her to stop, but then he gets distracted because she's following his jeans and boxers to the floor.

"Rachel-" It's a half-hearted protest, and he cuts himself off after the first second that her mouth actually touches him. And she's pretty sure he doesn't actually care if he ends up being late for class.

She just wants him to think about her all day.

It works, too, because he texts her dirty things for the better part of the morning after he leaves. She likes it, and she's not afraid to admit that she appreciates a little dirty talk now and then. Plus, she knows she's the only thing on his mind, and she likes that. Probably selfish, but she doesn't care. She wants to be at the forefront of his brain as much as possible because, honestly, that's where she deserves to be. And maybe she's got a tiny bit of an ulterior motive, but she doesn't care.

She goes to the gym and does an hour on the elliptical with old school Lady Gaga on her iPod and random dirty texts on her mind. She manages a pretty good workout and feels completely refreshed after she's showered and pulled her still-wet hair into a ponytail. She actually loves the way she feels post-workout, always rejuvenated and healthy. It's just like the feeling she gets after running, only with the comfort of air conditioning.

But then she checks her voicemail as she's walking back home, and her good mood falters just a little.

Shelby made it to New York. She and Beth arrived a little after seven last night, and they're settled into the Roosevelt. Shelby's very anxious to see Rachel's play and hopes that she's managed to get a ticket saved. How's an early dinner around 4:30 at that little seafood place on 52nd and 6th? Hope you're doing well.

Rachel hits erase the second the message is finished. She can't believe that Shelby called _her _with the plans when they haven't spoken since the initial phone conversation where Rachel literally told her to stay out of her life. Maybe this is a new thing that Shelby does- the exact opposite of what she's told as some fucked up form of reversed psychology or something. Regardless, she should be making plans with Noah. _He's _the one who wants to see her, probably the one who _invited _her here in the first place. And yes, there's a wonderful possibility that she's already talked to Noah and that she's only calling Rachel to try to make things less awkward (won't work). There's even a good possibility that Noah _told _her to call Rachel and try to jump start a reconciliation (won't be good for him if it's true). Either way, Rachel has no interest in being phone buddies with that woman, and she sure as hell isn't going to call her back.

Instead, she fakes cramps and bails on the entire evening.

She doesn't actually feel bad about making Noah go alone. Actually, there's a good chance that he _wants _to go alone. Even if he doesn't, she's selfish and doesn't want to sit at a table and make small talk with the woman who abandoned her twice during her childhood. And honestly, she doesn't want to be there when Noah looks at Beth for the first time since the hospital nursery. Maybe he needs her, but maybe he doesn't even want her there. She just can't do it, though, or at least she doesn't _want _to.

She tells him she'll see him after his show and to call her if he needs anything. She doesn't know exactly what she's expecting him to need, but it's the least she can do to be supportive. If she can't bring herself to actually _go, _she can at least listen to him if he wants to talk or in case things don't go exactly the way he's planned. She knows he has really high expectations, and she can't help feeling like he might be very disappointed.

She can't decide whether she's hoping he _is _or whether she's hoping he's not. She makes no comment either way.

It turns out, though, that his expectations weren't too high at all.

She gets home from the theatre, and he's waiting up for her, full of stuff to tell her. Beth is great. She's not shy at all. She took right up with him. She's so funny and smart. She looks even more like Bekah in person. She talks all the time. Apparently she's just wonderful, and Rachel can tell immediately that Noah's already in way too deep for his own good.

"She's awesome, Rach. I can't wait for you to meet her." He gives her the most genuine smile she's seen in a long time, and puts his hands on her hips to drag her toward him. "Seriously."

She should say something, but nothing comes to mind. So she just looks at him, and eventually she nods because she doesn't know what else to do. It doesn't work, though, because even through his own blinding happiness, he still knows her better than anyone, and she can't hide her feelings well enough.

"You don't want to meet her."

It's not a question, it's a statement. The smile is gone from his lips, and he's looking at her seriously. Rachel's pretty sure that this is what hell feels like. She's _tried _so damn hard, and she just _can't. _She wants to- basically more than anything- she _wants _to be one-hundred percent supportive and pleased and so happy for him. But she just can't. And it makes her feel like shit.

"It's not Beth." And it's the truth. She hopes. "It's..." and she blinks a few times to straighten out her thoughts. "I don't want to be around Shelby."

Noah's just looking at her. He doesn't look mad or even particularly upset. Mostly he just looks like he wants to listen to her, which is oddly comforting, but his face is so serious right now that it's also a little unnerving.

"She's Beth's mom."

"She was supposed to be _my _mom first."

She doesn't even mean to say it, and she can tell from his expression that Noah is thinking the same thing her father has said to her on multiple occasions. Shelby was never _supposed _to be her mother. Rachel knows that- she's known it her entire life- but that doesn't make it easier to deal with. And it doesn't excuse the fact that Shelby pushed her way into Rachel's life and then disappeared seven years ago, either. If she'd never done that, it wouldn't be so hard. Rachel could have just continued living her life knowing that her existence was basically the result of a business transaction. She would have no opinion of Shelby at all, other than the fact that she was some random woman who donated her body and her time to help a couple have a child. Now, though, she thinks of her and only sees a woman who disrupted a sixteen year old's life and then walked out on her.

She's having a hard time forgiving that.

"Rachel. I want you to meet Beth. _Please." _And he's still giving her that totally serious look, but she feels him rub his thumb over her hip carefully.

She can't say no to it. She'd be a terrible person if she did, and she's pretty sure that she'd have to be blind _and _heartless to tell him she won't. There's a part of her that wishes she _could _say no, but she loves him too much to do that.

So she meets Beth Corcoran for the very first time the next morning for a late breakfast.

Noah was right. She's practically Bekah's clone, minus the fact that her hair is longer than Bekah's ever was and also full of loose curls. She's sitting in a booth with Shelby when Rachel and Noah arrive, and Rachel slides all the way in so that she's directly across from her, mostly so she doesn't have to sit across from Shelby. She offers a curt, "Hi," in response to the greeting she gets from Shelby, but she doesn't exactly feel like making eye contact yet.

And that's how she finds herself face to face with Beth.

It's different than she thought it would be, seeing her for the first time. She's seen pictures, so obviously she already knew what to expect, but it's still different. She never saw Beth as a baby, even though all of her friends did. She couldn't, and she really didn't want to anyway. She saw camera phone pictures afterward, but no one ever really showed them again or brought her up at all after that. Quinn came back to school just a week later, and it was almost like it never happened.

But obviously it did, and here's the proof sitting right in front of her drinking chocolate milk through a straw.

"I'm Rachel." She introduces herself because no one else does. Beth's been staring at her but hasn't said anything yet; it's unnerving and awkward, and mostly, she just wants to break the silence.

"I know." And she's shocked by how grown up Beth sounds. It shouldn't be a surprise- she's not a baby- but it's still jarring. "I'm Beth."

Rachel really doesn't want to smile, but she cracks a tiny one. "I know."

She wonders how she's been explained, if Beth has any idea that she's Shelby's biological daughter or if she just knows that she's married to Noah. She doesn't know, and she doesn't ask. Not that she really gets a chance anyway because Beth starts right in talking. Noah was right- she's definitely not shy at all.

"I saw a rat outside the subway." She looks so serious, like this is the biggest news to happen in her life in a very long time. Maybe it is- she's seven.

The server shows up, just as Shelby attempts to scold Beth for talking about rodents in the middle of a restaurant, and they all order food. Rachel doesn't feel particularly hungry, but maybe if her mouth is full, she'll have an excuse to speak as little as possible. The second the server's gone, though, Beth's right back on the rat story.

"It was _huge! _But so cute!"

"It wasn't _cute, _it was disgusting." Shelby shakes her head, and Beth rolls her eyes in a way that makes her look one-hundred percent Puckerman.

And that's basically how breakfast goes. Beth talks the entire time, filling up every possible second with some new story about something she's seen or done since they've been in New York. Then she starts asking a ton of questions like when she can meet Bekah and can she go to their house and will somebody _please _take her to "that huge toy store."

She seems really happy, though, and _very _smart. She talks about school and how they're learning French, so Rachel assumes she must be in some kind of private school. Either that or some very progressive school. She laughs a lot and manages to eat all of her food without ever letting the silence last longer than five seconds at a time. Rachel chews each bite of her own breakfast, managing to eat maybe an eighth of her plate total. It's okay- she's still semi on a diet.

Noah gets up to pay, and Beth literally climbs under the table to get out and go with him. Shelby tries to stop her, but she's already halfway to the register saying she has to pee as well. Noah kind of glances over his shoulder at Rachel, obviously realizing that he's leaving her alone with the one person she least wants to be alone with. She just looks at him because it's not like she can tell him not to go. He gives her what she knows is an apologetic look that would go unrecognized by anyone else and then hurries after Beth who's practically already out of sight.

It's awkward right away, and they both know it. Shelby's sitting there sipping at what's got to be cold coffee by now because she's declined the server's last two offers for a top off, and Rachel's moving her straw through the remaining ice cubes in her water. Neither of them know what to say to the other, and Rachel's pretty sure that's mostly her fault, since she hasn't exactly been nice or friendly in the weeks since Shelby first contacted her. So, in an attempt to not be a giant bitch, she breaks the silence.

"Beth seems to really like New York."

"She just likes the Yankees." Shelby looks like she's biting back a smile. "I think she just does it out of spite for Boston."

Rachel doesn't know much about baseball, but she knows enough that being a Yankees fan while living in Boston is enough to get you murdered or at least blacklisted by your own city. It's funny that a seven year old little girl is already smart enough to rebel against her hometown, even if it _is _just in regards to baseball.

"Noah hates the Yankees." And it's the truth. He's never come around to them, and he doesn't have any kind of problem rooting against them in public, even though that's also basically grounds for a hate crime around here. "He says they're everything that's wrong with professional sports organizations."

"They are." And Shelby laughs a little. "_I _know that, and I don't even care."

This is not how Rachel ever envisioned their first conversation- talking about baseball in a corner diner. But somehow the absurdity of it makes it easier.

"How's the play going?"

Rachel takes another drink from her water and tells herself to just keep up the calm. It's much easier than being angry and defensive. "It's going well. We sell out most nights, but, you know, it's a small theatre." She shrugs dismissively.

"Any talks of moving it?"

Rachel shakes her head. They've already been told that despite the minor success they're experiencing, the chances of it going anywhere else are slim to none. It's okay, though, because none of them went into it thinking it was going to make the leap to Broadway or anything else. "I can talk to the box office and see if I can get you a ticket." She's being nice on purpose, just for the sake of keeping the peace. "When did you want to go?"

"Oh, just whenever." Shelby seems really pleased that Rachel's offered, which is a little unnerving and sort of makes Rachel feel like a bitch. "We're here through Thursday."

Rachel nods, trying really hard to just stay as cordial and non-awkward as possible. She looks over her shoulder toward the cash register where she can see Beth conning Noah out of quarters for the gumball machines. Well, conning is pushing it because she probably doesn't have to do much more than ask. He's bent down beside her, and they're looking at the choices, and something tugs right in the middle of Rachel's stomach.

"She's asking him for money." Shelby shakes her head and rolls her eyes a little bit. "She always asks people for money."

Rachel smiles, just because it's a pretty cute sight. "I'm sure she didn't have to beg."

"He's really good with her."

Rachel keeps an eye on them and watches as Beth turns the knob on one of the machines and grabs something from under the flap. "He likes kids. He's thinking about teaching music. If his first choice of rock star doesn't work out, I mean."

Shelby laughs, and Rachel smiles again. It's really not so bad, and she's definitely thankful for that.

"Thank you," she says, looking back at Shelby and being serious again. "For letting him meet her. It means a lot to him."

Shelby just nods. "I know what it's like."

Rachel ignores it because if she doesn't, she's going to end up asking why, if Shelby knows what it's like, she couldn't be bothered to stick around for Rachel. She doesn't, though, because it's not worth it. She needs to keep the peace, and right now is not the time to be airing her mommy issues.

So she bites her tongue.

They end up spending most of the day with Shelby and Beth, and even though Shelby knows New York pretty well from her time living here, it's Beth's first experience, and she wants to see _everything. _It's been a really long time since Rachel's done any of the touristy stuff, but it's fun to watch Beth get so excited over seeing the Statue of Liberty and the view from the Top of the Rock. She's most excited, though, when they finally make it to FAO Schwarz, and she honestly looks like she's truly in heaven.

Noah's the one who invites them home, and Rachel really doesn't mind much, although she would have cleaned up a little bit if she knew they were having company. It's getting late, though, and she has a show, so she leaves them in the living room while she goes to get her things ready. Bekah slips out of her room and follows her, though, shutting the door behind them.

"He brought them _home?" _ She's already changed into sweats, which means she's been home from school at least a little while. She looks tired, too, and maybe a little sick.

"I think they're going to dinner." Rachel pulls open a drawer to grab some jeans because it's going to be too cold for the dress she's currently wearing when she leaves the theatre tonight. "You should go with them."

"I don't want to go with them." Bekah sits down on the bed and just makes herself comfortable. "It's weird."

"She's a cute kid." She starts digging through the closet for a shirt, so she can change. "And she's been begging to meet you all day."

"Why?"

Rachel shrugs and throws her dress into the hamper. "Probably because everyone's been telling her she looks just like you. And she does. Seriously."

Bekah still doesn't seem too into the idea, but she follows Rachel back into the living room after she's changed clothes. Shelby's sitting on the sofa, and Beth's looking through the Blu-Ray collection. She stops when she sees the new addition, though, and she smiles like she's just been reunited with a long-lost best friend or something. Rachel's really not sure _why _she's so eager to meet Bekah, even with the fact that they look so similar, but she's so excited that it's almost sweet.

She starts talking a mile a minute, and Rachel goes to the kitchen to get some water before she leaves. She hears someone behind her, and Noah presses her up against the refrigerator the second the door's closed. She's caught off-guard when he kisses her, but she definitely doesn't mind or anything, not when he's kissing her like _this. _She almost asks him what the deal is, but he doesn't give her a chance.

"I love you." He stares her down when he finally breaks the kiss, and she tilts her head just a little to look up at him. "A lot."

"How much?" She's just teasing, and he pretends to think about it for half a second.

"A whole lot."

It works. She kisses him again, just a quick peck, and she smiles when he winks at her. She knows he's happy that she played nice all day and that she actually enjoyed herself a little bit. She's happy, too, because she feels a lot better knowing that she can manage it. He needs her to be there for him, and she will be. No matter what.

He's worth it.

…


	21. Chapter 21

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 21**

…

It's very, very easy to fall in love with a child.

This isn't a surprise to anyone, not even Rachel who has honestly never been around many children. She has no brothers or sisters, and she rarely sees any of her younger cousins. Her experience with children basically comes from Bekah, and Bekah hasn't been a child in a really long time. Still, she remembers when Bekah _was _little, and she remembers how easy it was to think she was the cutest, sweetest thing in the world.

It turns out Beth's a lot like that, too.

Rachel sees a ton of her during the week that she and Shelby are in town. They come over every single day, mostly because Beth's obsessed with their apartment and finding out how many times she can run up and down four flights of stairs without stopping. She's seriously obsessed with it and tries it at least seven or eight times every day.

She loves Noah and has him wrapped completely around her finger. It's cute because it's the sweetest thing in the world, but Rachel's pretty sure that Beth could ask for a pony and Noah would find some way to have one shipped to Boston. It's also a little scary, though, because he's getting extremely attached, and Rachel's a little worried that it's going to be harder than he expects when Thursday comes and he has to say goodbye. But she can't say any of that because he's too in love with that little girl, and Rachel can't tell him not to be.

What's most amusing, though, is the way Beth seems to literally idolize Bekah. It makes no sense whatsoever because Bekah's not even overly-friendly to her. She's not a total bitch or mean or anything, but it's not like she encourages the hero-worship. If anything, she thinks it's weird and maybe a little annoying, but Beth doesn't notice and basically attaches herself to Bekah's hip any time they're in the same vicinity. It's funny, and it's even funnier to watch Bekah react to it. She seems half-terrified most of the time.

Shelby says she wants to go Christmas shopping and asks if they'll watch Beth for a little while. She doesn't have to ask twice because Beth and Noah are already setting up the Xbox in the living room and getting ready to shoot each other or death ray each other or whatever this particular game's form of violence incurs. It's probably not appropriate for Beth, but oh, well.

Rachel goes to take a nap while they play, and she feels like she's only been asleep for a few minutes before she's waking up to someone crawling into bed with her. It's a much smaller someone than what she's used to, so she knows who it is before she even rolls over. Beth is laying on the pillow next to her, staring back at her with big green eyes.

"Everyone fell asleep." She whispers it in a voice so loud that she might as well just say it. Also, 'everyone' is an exaggeration considering the fact that there are only two people in the apartment besides herself.

"Where's Noah?"

"Asleep." Beth looks at her like she's an idiot for asking that question when she already informed her of the answer. "He said we should take a nap, but I'm not really good at taking naps. My teacher said I might have ADHD."

Rachel really, _really _wants to laugh, but she has a feeling that Beth is being totally serious, so she does not. Instead, she just points out the obvious. "I'm asleep, too..."

"_Somebody _has to wake up and babysit me." Beth says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm only seven."

Rachel wants to laugh again, but she doesn't. Instead, she sits up and ignores the fact that _she _was asleep first and that this should really be on Noah, not her. Beth sits up, too, and jumps out of bed a second later like she's ready to go run around the block or something. Rachel's pretty sure she could suggest just that and that Beth would be more than eager. Instead, she asks her if she wants to go get ice cream.

It's pretty much a given that she does.

Rachel takes her to a cafe a few roads over and sends Noah a text on the way in case he wakes up and wonders where the hell they are. Chances are, though, he's not waking up any time soon. He looked pretty comfortable laid out on the sofa, and she makes a mental note to tell him that 'babysitting' does not include sleeping. At least not while the kid is wide awake.

She and Beth sit down at a two seat table, and Beth eats a malt ball sundae while Rachel just drinks a black coffee. One of the things she's noticed during the past few days is that Beth might be tiny but she can sure eat. Her metabolism must be ridiculous because she honestly eats as much as most full grown men, and she's still a thin, wiry thing with hair that probably weighs more than the rest of her.

Rachel's just thinking about that, so she's caught off-guard when Beth asks out of nowhere, "Do you know my mother? My real one?"

This is the part where Rachel really wants to give her a lesson on the definition of _real. _Rachel's _real _parents live in Lima where one of them has no direct DNA relation to her whatsoever. Her _biological _mother is probably currently on the third floor of the Times Square Toys R Us. There is a huge difference. But maybe it's not her place to point this out to Beth who, so far, seems to have a pretty good grasp on what it means to be adopted and what birth parents' roles are.

So, instead of lecturing her, she just says, "I used to."

"You don't anymore?"

"We knew each other in high school."

"So a long time ago?"

Rachel just looks at her, slightly offended, and shakes her head. "It wasn't _that _long ago." It hits her then, though, why Beth probably worships Bekah. To Beth, Rachel and Noah are just other grownups- _parents- _and, therefore, _old. _Bekah is just an older kid, which is obviously cool and admired. Despite the fact that there's really not a _huge _age difference there.

Beth ignores the fact that she just called Rachel old and keeps eating her sundae. "She doesn't want to see me."

She doesn't sound particularly _sad_ about this or too overly upset. It's more just to the point, like she's stating a fact. She sort of is. Still, Rachel feels some kind of urge to make it sound less terrible.

"She lives far away." Why the _hell _she's defending Quinn Fabray is beyond her, but hears herself doing it.

"In North Carolina." Beth scoops another bite of ice cream into her mouth. "She works for a newspaper."

Rachel doesn't know _where _Beth got that information because it's certainly something Rachel didn't know. Then again, she hasn't actively been seeking information about Quinn's life- she's one of those people who never really garnered much thought after graduation. Not until Noah was secretly calling her one day anyway. It was probably _that _phone conversation that led to the revelation that Quinn is working for a newspaper- either that conversation or Google. Really, Rachel doesn't care.

The good thing about Beth is that she doesn't really let silence happen for too long before she's filling it right up. She does that now, too, asking something that sort of catches Rachel off-guard again.

"If you have a baby, would you keep it? Or give it away?"

"Keep it."

"Me, too." Beth nods like it's just a common fact. A few seconds pass, and then she says, "My mom had a baby and gave it away, but it was kind of different from me."

Rachel just stares at her, unsure what, if _anything, _she's supposed to say to that. Luckily for her, she doesn't have to say a word.

"I know it was you." Beth's staring back at her, something a lot more serious than usual on her face. "But my mom said not to say anything because you don't like to talk about it. So don't tell her, okay? Or I'll get in trouble."

There's a part of Rachel who thinks she _deserves _to get in trouble- maybe it will teach her to stay out of other people's business and to think before she speaks. Maybe it's a lesson she needs to learn. But Rachel's not going to tell on her. It's not her place, and she can't blame a _child _for being honest, much less for being curious.

"It's weird," Beth wipes at her mouth where fudge is starting to drip over her lips. "It's weird that you married my dad and that my mom is your mom, too."

"He's not your dad." She doesn't know why she says it- maybe because she's so used to saying the words _she's not my mom _in regards to Shelby, maybe telling Beth the same in regards to Noah is just second nature. But it's mean, and she feels bad immediately when she sees the way the words hit Beth's face. There's no reason she needs to be mean to a seven year old, and she's sorry.

She's even more sorry when Beth says, "He's the only dad I have," and actually sounds _sad._

Rachel immediately falls into a lesser bitch mode, mostly because she feels bad for ever saying it to begin with. Still, she meant what she said, and she tries to explain her words as gently as possible. "Your mom is your mom. Just like my dads are my dads. Those are the people who take care of us."

"We could have more than one." Rachel realizes that Beth really _isn't _that different from herself, at least not from her seven year old self- the seven year old self who prayed nightly that her mother would show up somehow and just _want _her. Beth wants the same thing, and Rachel can't blame her for that. She can't even discourage it.

So she just nods and feels like a bitch for crushing a child's dreams.

"Do you think I'm like them?" Beth asks quietly. "Like Noah? And Quinn? I think you're a lot like my mom."

Rachel wants to tell her that no, she is not. But she doesn't because Beth explains herself right away.

"She sings really, really good, and Noah told me you do, too. And you look like her, like a lot. And you're really serious just like she is. You are a lot more like her than I am."

"I don't think you're much like Quinn." She says it without thinking, but it's the truth. "But you're smart like her. She's really smart." Beth smiles like this is exactly what she wants to hear. "You're more like Noah, though. You talk like him. And he likes to play sports. And you look like him."

"If they kept me, I could have been a Puckerman instead of a Corcoran. And my initials could have been BP like the gas station instead of BC like... dinosaurs." Beth rolls her eyes a little, and Rachel just laughs instead of telling her that her initials would have undoubtedly been BF, since there was no way in the world Quinn would ever have let her child be a Puckerman. "My mom was a cheerleader, and my dad played guitar. That's what Mom always told me when I was little."

"He still plays the guitar."

"That's so cool." Beth looks like she's seriously impressed by the thought. "I wish I could."

"Ask him to teach you."

"Do you think he really will?"

Rachel knows he will, and that's exactly why she suggested it. She knows that it will thrill him, and she knows that it will please Shelby on some level as well. If guitar is as close to music as Beth wants to get, it's still closer than she is now. Mostly, though, she just does it for Noah.

Because he needs that kind of connection.

She calls the box office later that day while Noah and Beth kick a soccer ball back and forth in the park. She keeps an eye on them from her seat on the bench and tries really hard to ignore the feeling she gets in her stomach whenever she sees them together. It's not a bad feeling- it's more of a sentimental feeling, which is probably a normal reaction to seeing a man so crazy over a child. She used to have that feeling a lot in the earliest stages of their relationship when she would watch him with Bekah. It was different, of course, but he used to be so sweet with her (for the most part), and even though he's still a really good brother, their situation is totally different now. Plus, Bekah's not little anymore, not by a long shot.

She gets Shelby a ticket and lets her know. Noah's going to keep Beth during the show, and Rachel thinks it'll be nice for them to get to spend a little more time together before Shelby and Beth have to leave. She tries not to think about the prospect of being alone with Shelby, though, because she's still not totally okay with the whole situation. She's better than she _was, _but there are still a lot of reservations floating at the back of her mind. She's trying really hard and has been doing a pretty good job, but it's still a little rough sometimes.

Noah must realize this because he catches her in the bedroom while she's getting ready to leave. Beth is in the living room watching some show on Disney Channel, and Bekah's god knows where. Rachel's throwing a few things into her bag and trying to brush her hair at the same time when he comes in and shuts the door.

"Thank you," he says seriously. "For all this."

She's not entirely sure what's included in 'all this,' but she's willing to assume that he's talking about the fact that she's been playing nicely this entire time and that she's been making an effort to put the negative stuff aside. She knows it's really important to him, and she honestly does want him to get everything he can out of this. He wants it, and she wants it for him.

But it's still hard.

She lets some of these feelings out before the show while she's sitting in Parker's dressing room watching him get ready. She's already done her own makeup, and there's not much left to do besides wait for curtain. Parker's behind schedule, which isn't all that unusual, so she's keeping him company and bitching to him in the process.

"Well, they'll be gone Thursday, right? That's only like one more day."

"I know." She tugs at a loose thread on his couch. "It's not really that bad. I'm just ready for things to go back to normal."

Parker kind of gives her this look in the mirror that makes her think he's not so certain that things are ever going completely back to normal. She wonders if he's right, but she's sure as hell not going to say it.

"I'm nervous," she admits. "I haven't performed in front of her since I was like sixteen, and she's never seen me act or anything."

"The last thing you need to be is nervous about _this. _You can do this in your sleep. Actually, I think you _do _do it in your sleep at least once a week."

Rachel throws him a half-glare in the mirror, and he smiles a little bit and starts caking on his makeup.

"You'll be fine. You're awesome at this, and you know it."

The show goes smoothly. Just like Parker said it would. There aren't any major issues, and once she gets on stage, she basically forgets about who's in the audience. She has a tendency to just lose herself in the play, and tonight is no different. Honestly, it's not until curtain call that she even really thinks about the fact that Shelby's in the audience, and she doesn't actually _see _her until half an hour later when she's leaving the theatre with Parker.

There's not much to stage door here, usually just a handful of people who want an autograph or a picture. Rachel won't lie and say that she doesn't love it because she _does. _She can't wait until she's in a big show where tons of people line up. She loves signing autographs and meeting people who give her compliments and tell her that she did a really great job. It's fun, and she enjoys ego boosts. That's not news.

Tonight there are maybe ten people waiting- all of them under thirty, all girls with the exception of two guys that Rachel would put money on as being gay. So it's no shock that most of them are more interested in Parker than they are in her, but she's still as nice as she can be. And she takes the time to sign for anyone who asks and pose for any pictures that people want. When the crowd clears, though, she drags Parker with her over to where Shelby has been waiting patiently and introduces him.

"You guys were incredible." Shelby sounds totally serious and honest when she says it, and Rachel doesn't honestly doubt that she means every word. "That was amazing."

Parker smiles politely and says, "Thank you," while Rachel just nods a little and tries to figure out why she's suddenly so nervous again. She hugs Parker goodbye, and he kisses the side of her forehead before giving another, "Nice to meet you," to Shelby and heading off in the direction of the subway.

"You were so great," Shelby says to her again when they're alone. It's maybe the first time Rachel _doesn't _want to hear a compliment. But when Shelby asks if she wants to go for coffee, she says yes anyway.

It's weird. It's weird, and they both know it. They've been coexisting okay in the realm of Noah and Beth, but it's different now, just the two of them in some 24 hour Starbucks with an iced soy latte and a half-fat mocha frap between them. Now it's just strained and awkward, and they actually spend five minutes talking about the freaking _weather._

And then after an extended period of total uneasy silence, Shelby finally says, "I'm really glad you're giving this a chance."

Rachel looks up at her, mostly because she doesn't even know what that means. "Giving what a chance?"

"This. Us. I know I messed it up before."

This is not good. Talking about this won't turn out well for either of them. There's a reason Rachel's avoided actually voicing her opinion, and it's because there's no way they can talk about it and _not _end up in an argument.

So instead of saying what she _wants_ to say, she drinks her coffee and doesn't say a word.

"I know you don't understand... I think you just expected so much, and..." It's very obvious that Shelby has no idea what she actually wants to say. Rachel, on the other hand, can't really hold her tongue much longer.

"The only reason I expected anything is because _you _made me. You're the one who showed up out of nowhere. What exactly was I supposed to think?"

She can tell that Shelby's choosing her words carefully. She licks her lips slowly and seems to be considering her response. "I wanted to know you."

"And you learned everything you wanted in what? Like six conversations? Then you were just done?" She's not raising her voice or anything, but she's also not going to hold back. Shelby could have avoided this conversation if she wanted, but she didn't. So now Rachel's going to say exactly what's on her mind.

"I know that I hurt you, but-"

"You did," Rachel cuts her off, still speaking just as calmly as ever. "But I'm not sixteen years old anymore. I don't need outside validation from anyone. I'm married, and I have my own family, and I don't _need _anything else. The only thing I want from you is just an explanation. I just want to know why you ever came back in the first place if you were just going to leave?"

Shelby won't answer right away, probably because she knows there's nothing she can say that will adequately explain her reasons for worming her way into Rachel's life and then disappearing just as quickly. She's going to try to explain herself, though, which is really all Rachel wants.

"It wasn't what I expected."

"Of course it wasn't!" And Rachel's voice rises for the first time- she quickly gets it under control. "I wasn't a baby, and that's what you wanted. So when you got what you wanted, you left."

"It wasn't like that." Shelby's shaking her head, and she actually seems conflicted, almost like she knows she can't really win this no matter how hard she tries. Still, she keeps going. "You were almost grown. You didn't need me, and I realized that after I met you. I had this, this _fantasy _in my head, and it wasn't real. I shouldn't have disrupted your life like that, and I know that now."

"You could have met me." Rachel's serious, and she looks at her, the anger and everything else draining out of her quickly. "I _wanted _to meet you. I wondered about you my whole life." She hesitates for a second before she finishes. "But you didn't have any right to play with my emotions like that. You showed up, and then you just disappeared. You made me think a boy _loved _me, and it was all just fake."

"I'm sorry. That part..." Shelby shakes her head again. "I don't even know what happened there, but that part got way out of hand, and I'm sorry. It was wrong, Rachel, and you have to know that I really do regret all of that. Not reconnecting with you, but the way that it all happened. I'm sorry."

It's been a long time since Jesse St. James has even crossed Rachel's mind, but she won't pretend like that aspect of Shelby's sudden arrival didn't make things ten times worse. It was just cruel, and she was just a kid. She's older now and more removed from the situation, but when she was sixteen, she was very easily manipulated, and sending a boy to pretend like he liked her, or even _loved _her, it was just mean. Certainly not something a fully grown woman should have participated in, much less orchestrated.

"I know you're angry with me, and I know you've got a lot of pent up resentment toward me, but I want us to be able to coexist. I really want to know you and be a part of your life, and I really want you and Noah in Beth's life. I'm sorry for everything, but I hope we can find some kind of common ground. For everyone's sake."

Rachel stares at her, wondering if this is all part of some planned out speech. It sounds like it. But it also sounds honest. She thinks that Shelby's probably telling the truth and that she probably actually _does _regret the way things happened before.

But it's just so hard to forgive and forget.

Her nerves are practically shot by the time they leave the coffee shop and head back to the apartment. There aren't too many words exchanged as Rachel unlocks the front door of the building and they head upstairs. Her neighbor's cat runs past them on the stairs, and Shelby jumps a little, since she's obviously not used to strange animals running past her.

When they get to the apartment, though, they find Noah and Beth sitting in living room together. It's possibly the most heart-warming and heart-breaking scene she's ever witnessed- both of them sitting on the floor, Noah with his guitar in his lap and Beth with a brand new purple guitar just her size on her own lap. He must have bought it for her, and now he's giving her a lesson, helping her move her fingers to the right spots and teaching her how to play a chord. Shelby stops and stares at them, too, and Rachel knows she finds it just as conflicting.

Mostly, Rachel just needs to breathe by herself for a few minutes.

She barely says anything to anyone and just goes back to her bedroom alone. She sits down on the bed and tries really hard not to cry. Tears would just be stupid and pointless right now. There's nothing to cry over, and she feels stupid for wanting to. But she's just overwhelmed. It's just... _overwhelming. _

Her phone buzzes from her purse, and she reaches for it without thinking. It's pretty late, so she assumes it's probably Bekah with some bullshit excuse about why she's unable to make curfew. But it's Finn's name on the display when she unlocks it. And there's a picture of the chubbiest little baby girl she's ever seen with slightly swollen eyes under a pink hat.

And then she _does _cry because holding it back just seems impossible now.

She hears the door open and close and assumes that Shelby and Beth must be leaving. She doesn't know if Noah's going to walk them down or not, but she really just wants to see him right now. He must read her mind because he shows up a second later with a semi-confused look on his face. He's probably wondering why she acted so anti-social when she came in, but the semi-confused look turns into total confusion when he sees that she's crying.

"Baby... What's wrong with you?" He looks half-nervous, possibly imagining the very worst from her time alone with Shelby. It's not that. It's just... It's everything.

She stands up and hands him her phone. She watches him look at it and sees the little smile that creeps over his face. It makes her feel even more like crying, and she just can't help it.

So she's glad when he hugs her because she doesn't know what else she needs at the moment. Maybe a hug is it.

...


	22. Chapter 22

**BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter 22**

…

Shelby and Beth go back to Boston, and things go almost back to normal at home.

Bekah's hardly around at all because the winter showcase at her school is coming up, and even though she's only a junior, she's pretty convinced that scouts will be there taking notes for future students. She's got a mile-long list of college music programs she wants to try for, and she doesn't seem interested in cutting it down any time soon. She's working really hard, though, which is something to her credit. She's always been a hard worker when it comes to getting things that she wants, so it's not really surprising that she's spending most of her time at school these days, hours after school actually lets out. It's easier for her to rehearse there- one, because the pianos there are much nicer than the small one they have squeezed into the living room, and two, because there are no neighbors around to annoy, so she can play as long and as loud as she wants to.

Noah's still killing himself at school, so Rachel barely sees him, either, but she's pretty busy, too. Two days after Shelby leaves, they get news of the show closing. It sucks, and everybody is pretty upset, but they have to be realistic. They knew it wasn't going to run forever. And even though it got pretty good reviews and everything, there wasn't enough interest or enough funds to try and move it to Broadway. It got a much longer run than anyone expected, too, so there's really nothing to be but thankful. Still, it's sad to see it end, and Rachel has to spend the last few weeks of its run trying to line up auditions and find something else to do come December 23rd.

It's easier to get into auditions now. She has real work experience and real representation, and she's able to do a lot more than just wait in line at the opens. Getting into auditions doesn't help her actually land parts, though- not when there doesn't seem to be anything to fit her. It seems like every role that's casting is either not in her range or wants someone tall and blonde. She gets especially frustrated when she goes to an audition and gets told that she's too "cookie cutter." She would buy it and leave before, but she's spent the last few months taking her clothes off and dying of a heroin overdose on stage, so she tells the casting director just that. He just kind of looks at her like he's unsure of why she's still there. She's not really sure, either, so she leaves.

It's frustrating, though. She got too comfortable with her show, and it's like she let herself forget that _not _working as an actor really, really sucks. She whines about to Parker one night before the show, and he gives her this look that just lets her know she's going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth.

"I got a job…"

She doesn't _hate _it. She's jealous, yes, but he's her friend, and she needs to be happy for him. Plus, it's not exactly like he's her competition, so she just bites down her bitterness and tries not to look as bitchy as she feels.

He throws her a half-eaten bag of Twizzlers, and she chews on one as she listens to him tell her about his new job. Paper Mill Playhouse is nothing to laugh at by any means, and A Chorus Line is classic. So Parker getting the role of Mark for a planned late winter production is actually pretty amazing. She tries not to be jealous, and she honestly _is _really happy for him, but there's a tiny part of her that doesn't think it's fair that he can just move from one show to another, while she's struggling through auditions with basically no luck.

She does her makeup in his dressing room and tries not to stress about it too much. Something will happen for her, she just has to be patient. Parker keeps telling her stories about the crazy lady who lives next door to him, and she laughs and tries to pay attention even though she's not really in that great of a mood.

"Your phone's ringing."

His words take her out of her own self-pity for a second, and she listens until she can hear the faint buzzing from inside her purse. Parker grabs it for her, and she digs around until she finds the phone and answers it.

"Is this Rachel Puckerman?"

She doesn't recognize the number or the voice, and it's a little bit strange for someone to call and ask for her by her married name. Yes, legally she _is _a Puckerman, but professionally, she still goes by Berry. Anyone who might be calling in regards to an audition or a role would call her by her maiden name.

"Yes, this is she."

"This is Mary Anderson at City Medical." Rachel immediately puts down the bobby pin she was attempting to stick into her hair. "Your husband has been admitted here." 

"What? Why?" She could probably be quiet for two seconds and hear the information without having to ask for it, but something drops in her stomach and makes it impossible for her to think clearly.

"He was in an accident. A taxi accident. He's going into surgery now. Can you come and sign the paperwork?"

"What kind of accident?" She's starting to panic, and she can see Parker looking at her strangely. She doesn't understand what's happening right now. "Is he okay?"

"He sustained some fairly extensive injuries. The doctor can tell you more when you arrive."

"But is he okay?"

"He's going into surgery now. You should try to get here as soon as possible."

She doesn't know what that means, but it sounds terrible. She hangs up after getting the address for the hospital, and Parker immediately asks what's wrong.

"Noah's in the hospital." She's already up and halfway out the door.

Parker gets up, too, and follows her across the hall to her own dressing room where she starts changing and getting her things together without preamble. They see each other nearly naked on a nightly basis, so there's basically nothing to hide. "What happened?" He looks concerned and possibly scared for her as he leans against the doorway.

"I don't know." She feels like she wants to cry, but for some reason, she can't do anything but stare straight in front of her as she pulls on her coat and shoves her feet into some shoes. "A taxi accident." It sounds weird when she says. Taxis don't have accidents- the drivers are insane and terrible, but they don't actually get into _accidents- _or at least it's not something she hears about on a regular basis.It doesn't make sense.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He's got her purse and hands it to her as she finishes getting dressed.

"No. Just… tell them." She should go find the director or tell her understudy or something, but she can't think right now.

"Call me if you need anything." He's being sincere, she knows it. He's a really good friend to her, and she's thankful for that but can't deal with it right now.

"I'll text you later."

She leaves then without saying anything else, hurrying out to the corner down from the theatre to catch her own taxi. She can't think straight right now. Nothing makes sense in her head, and she just gives the address to the driver and tries really hard not to have some kind of mental breakdown or something. She keeps telling herself not to panic, especially since she doesn't even know what happened or if he's seriously hurt. But the nurse's words keep swimming in her ear. _Fairly extensive injuries. _It's too much. She just can't deal.

The ride to the hospital seems to take forever, and she doesn't wait for change after she throws a twenty over the seat. She practically runs into the hospital and stops at the front desk to find out where to go. And when she gets to the appropriate floor, the nurse at that information desk just hands her a stack of paperwork to fill out and tells her that someone will be out to speak with her shortly.

That doesn't cut it. She doesn't want somebody to come out and speak with her _shortly, _she wants to know what the hell is going on right now. She doesn't have time to wait for _shortly, _and she opens her mouth and says just that.

"Ma'am, I understand that you are concerned. However, I don't have any information to give you right now."

"Then find someone who does!"

"Your husband is in surgery. When he is out, the doctor will speak with you. I'm sure you don't want me to call the doctor away from the surgery, do you?" It's condescending and bitchy, and Rachel can tell it's a long-perfected line that she probably delivers several times a week.

Rachel's bitter, but she grabs the paperwork and takes it over to the waiting area. She stares at it after she sits down, wondering how she's supposed to concentrate on filling this crap out when no one will even tell her what's going on.

_Don't panic, _she tells herself while she takes a deep breath. _You don't know that there's any reason for panic._

It may be true, but it doesn't make dealing with this any easier. She's still freaking out inside and feeling like she's going to be sick any second now. She pulls her phone out to call Santana because she really doesn't want to be alone, and it hits her out of nowhere that she hasn't even called Bekah yet. She's not sure how the hell that managed to slip her mind, but she immediately finds the name and hits send. She isn't surprised at all when she doesn't get an answer.

_Emergency. Call me ASAP. _She types out the text and hits send, knowing that while Bekah may not be in a position (or have the desire) to answer her phone, she's more than likely going to get the text right away.

And she's right. Her phone rings less than a minute later.

"What's wrong?" Bekah sounds scared, too, and she doesn't blame her. Still, she does her best to sound as calm and together as possible.

"I'm at the hospital. Noah's been in an accident."

There's silence on the other end, and she's almost convinced that the call's dropped until Bekah finally says, "What kind of accident?"

"A taxi. I'm not sure what happened, nobody will tell me anything."

Bekah asks what hospital and says she's on her way, and Rachel feels bad when she hangs up because she knows she's already freaked Bekah out. Still, she has to know, and it's Rachel's responsibility to tell her.

She calls Santana next and leaves a voicemail because she doesn't actually get an answer. She wants somebody to show up and hold her hand and tell her everything's going to be okay, but she knows that's not going to happen. When Bekah gets here, it's going to be up to Rachel to be the mature one and take care of things. She checks her watch and can't believe less than four minutes have passed since she sat down.

The paperwork is just stupid information. His name, his birth date, height, weight, blood type. All those things that they could potentially find out through other methods that don't involve having his wife sit in a stuffy waiting room filling out a stack of pages that really mean nothing. She focuses on it, though, kind of glad that she has something to take her attention away from the fact that Noah's in an operating room having God only knows done to him. She wants to know what's wrong with him and what they're doing. She wants to know that he's alright, and she wants to see it with her own eyes.

But nobody seems too interested in giving her what she wants.

Bekah shows up half an hour later looking absolutely scared out of her mind. She runs up to Rachel and immediately asks what's going on.

"I don't know. He's still in surgery."

"Is he okay?"

Rachel nods even though she has no proof of this. But she knows it's the only answer that's not going to send Bekah into hysterics of some sort. She's literally shaking when she slides into the seat beside Rachel.

"Are you okay?"

Bekah just nods, but it's obviously a lie. Rachel can't ever remember seeing her look like this- just cold panic set in deep. Her eyes are watering, and her skin is paler than normal. She's very obviously shaken up, and Rachel doesn't know what to say, so she just puts an arm around her and squeezes her into a half-hug that Bekah all but ignores.

"He's going to be fine."

Another nod, this one just as forced and fake as the last one.

They sit there in silence because neither one knows what to say or do. Rachel's mind is buzzing and panicking, and Bekah's just sitting there very plainly trying not to cry. She looks scared out of her mind, which actually puts a little bit of Rachel's own fears into perspective. She can at least put her focus into being the calm one because she can already tell that the littlest thing is going to set Bekah off.

They sit there for two hours before anyone finally comes to speak with them. "Puckerman?" A woman who appears to be no more than thirty finds them in the waiting room, and they both nod in answer to her question. "I'm Dr. Vinestead," she shakes both of their hands and then sits down on the end table across from them. "Your husband is doing well." Rachel lets out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding, and the doctor gives her a little smile. "He's out of surgery and in recovery now. He should be awake soon."

"Can we see him?" She shouldn't interrupt, but she can't help it.

"As soon as he's moved to the unit, yes. I want to keep him in ICU at least overnight just to keep an eye on his initial healing. If he's doing alright tomorrow, we can move him to a private room."

"What happened?" Rachel feels like she's asked the same questions twenty times, and so far she's yet to hear a real answer.

"Well, from the accident report, I believe his car was in a side collision at an intersection. Because of the impact, your husband was directly hit and suffered a few broken bones in his right arm and two broken ribs. His hip is also broken, so we had to surgically affix three screws." Rachel realizes she's holding her breath again. Everything the doctor's saying sounds so technical and terrible, and she just wants to see with her own eyes that he's alright.

"Is he going to be okay?" She doesn't realize how scared she is until she hears it in her own voice.

Dr. Vinestead nods and tries to offer what's probably supposed to be an encouraging smile. "I expect him to heal just fine. I don't have an exact estimate on his recovery yet. Broken hips vary in healing timeframes."

Rachel tries to process all of it. It's sounds so terrible, but the doctor seems optimistic. She still can't really breathe, though, and she asks how long they have to wait before they can see him.

"Once he's awake and stabilized, we'll move him to ICU. Then you can see him. I'll send a nurse to let you know."

Dr. Vinestead leaves them, and Rachel leans back in her chair. She's still unsure of what she's supposed to be feeling- she's so scared but relieved as well. It takes maybe a minute before she realizes the crying beside her.

Bekah is clearly trying very hard not to break down, but she's failing miserably. Her normally light olive skin is pink, and her eyes are watering to the point that they can't hold back the tears any longer. Rachel watches as Bekah wipes at her eyes and cheeks and tries very hard not to show how upset she really is.

"He's okay." Rachel says it quietly, almost carefully, because she's not sure how Bekah's going to react. She's honestly surprised to see her so emotional. She has moments, of course, but for the most part her sister-in-law is very talented at keeping anything besides normal teenage angst hidden. This isn't that at all, though, and Rachel's a little shocked. "The doctor said he's going to be fine…"

"But what if he's not?" Bekah apparently gives up on trying to hide her crying, and she looks up with tears streaking down her cheeks. Her eye makeup is already running in thin black lines, and she looks scared to death.

"He _is. _You heard the doctor. It's just some broken bones."

"How could this happen again?" Bekah sounds young and very confused. Rachel's confused as well.

"Again?"

"I hate cars!"

And then it all makes sense, and all the pieces fall into place. Rachel's shocked that this is literally the first time she's made the connection, and she immediately feels guilty. Side collision- _T-Boned- _it's exactly the same as when Mrs. Puckerman was killed. A sick feeling settles low in her stomach, and she tries to figure out what she's supposed to say or do right now. She can't think of anything, though, and Bekah doesn't give her a chance.

"When my mom died, they made me wait at the hospital and pretended like she might be okay. But she was already dead."

Rachel stares at her. She has absolutely no clue what she's talking about, but Bekah's staring straight ahead and keeps taking in these really ragged breaths like she can't control her own breathing or something.

"I was at home, and then this social worker showed up and made me go to the hospital. And I had to wait there forever, and they kept telling me they didn't know how she was but that everything would be okay, but they were _lying. _And I had to wait there with that woman all night until Noah finally got there. And then they made _him _tell me." She shakes her head like she's trying to erase the memory or something. "And she was dead the whole time."

Rachel's never heard this story before. She remembers coming home that morning and finding Bekah shut up alone in her room staring at the wall. And then she remembers Bekah breaking down and clinging to her like the terrified little girl that she was. But she has never asked who told Bekah or how Bekah found out. She knows Noah drove all night from Philadelphia while his mother was in surgery and that by the time he arrived back in Lima, it was too late, but she's never known exactly what Bekah went through that night.

She's crying less now, mostly just still taking in those same ragged breaths and trying hard to keep herself under control. There are a few moments of silence, and then she says, "I don't want to go back to foster care," really quietly like it's some kind of secret.

Rachel's confused. She finds her voice for the first time in a couple of minutes and says, "You won't have to. Why would you think that?"

"If something happens…" Bekah bites down on her lower lip, and it's bright red when she lets it go.

"Nothing's going to happen." Rachel's surprised to find how confident her words are considering the fact that such a large part of her is still so scared. "I promise, Bek, he's fine."

Bekah nods a little, but she brings her feet up to the chair and sits with her knees tight against her chest. She looks so young right now, and it's scary because sometimes she doesn't seem young at all. But she's only sixteen, and this is probably just too much. Rachel puts an arm around her again and hugs her, only a little surprised when Bekah's head drops to the side to rest on her shoulder.

They don't talk much after that. They just both sit there watching reruns of Friends on TBS until a nurse comes out and lets them know that they can finally see Noah. She takes them down the hallway to the ICU waiting room and lets them know that until he's out of the unit, filling them in a little on the way about his condition.

"He's awake now, but he's extremely groggy due to the anesthesia and the pain medication. The doctor has him on a morphine drip, so he's not one-hundred percent coherent." She's all cheerful like this is something to celebrate. Rachel really wants to tell her to just shut up.

It gets worse when the nurse starts laying out the ICU visitation policies. "While he's in the unit, only immediate family can visit. Visitation hours are 10 AM to 2 PM and 6 PM to 8 PM. You're more than welcome to stay overnight, but you must stay in the waiting room." Rachel's barely listening, just focusing on the fact that she needs to get back there. She stops, though, when she sees the nurse focus on Bekah. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen…"

The nurse gives her this sad little smile and shakes her head a little. "Sorry. You have to be eighteen to visit in the unit."

Bekah's mouth kind of falls open, and she stares at the nurse in disbelief and then looks at Rachel like she's silently begging her to do something. Rachel tries, even though she already knows it's pointless. "She's his sister-"

"I'm sorry." The nurse is still doing that annoying sympathetic thing, and Rachel wants to hit her again. "It's just policy."

Bekah looks like she's about to burst into tears again, so Rachel tries to diffuse it. She pulls her aside a little bit and tries to be calm. "He won't have to stay here long." She has no idea if this is true, but she's trust what the doctor initially said. "Once he's in a regular room, you can visit all the time, I promise."

She hands Bekah her purse and cell phone. "Call Santana back and tell her to come down here." Santana's called four times since the initial voicemail that Rachel left, but she hasn't had the will to answer any of them. "I'll go and make sure everything's okay."

Bekah just nods, but she looks so sad and young that it's really heartbreaking. Rachel can't understand the purpose in not allowing someone's perfectly healthy nearly adult sister to visit them. There's no difference between sixteen and eighteen, and she can't for the life of her figure out the purpose behind this policy.

Because it's already after visiting hours, the nurse tells her she can only stay back there for fifteen minutes. Rachel tries to protest that as well, but there's no point. The rules are apparently set in stone, so all she can do is follow the hand-washing instructions and follow the nurse back through the doors to the ICU.

There's little privacy back here. It's just one open spaced area separated by thick blue curtains all spread out around a central nurses' station. It's busy and not very quiet. There's the general hustle of nurses and doctors moving around to check on the various patients, but there's also the hum and beeping of the various machinery that the patients are hooked up to.

Rachel holds her breath a little bit when the nurse she's following finally pushes back one of the curtains and smiles at her like it's some kind of welcoming or something. She holds the curtain back for Rachel and reminds her of the fifteen minute time constraint before leaving them alone.

Noah looks much worse than she expected.

She's spent the last few hours convincing herself that he's fine and that broken bones aren't that much of an issue, but seeing him makes her more terrified than she was before. He's lying there wearing a hospital gown with his arm in a cast and a sling that's elevating his leg off the bed. It's not the casts or the slings that get to her, though, it's the fact that nearly one whole side of his face is covered by a giant bruise, not to mention what seems to be about a hundred cuts on his face and neck and god knows where else under the gown. He looks _terrible._

But he still smiles when he sees her, and when she starts crying against her own will, he holds his good hand out to her and waits until she takes it to say anything.

"It's not that bad."

She wants to smack him. _It's not that bad. _He literally looks _half-dead _lying there hooked up to a million different monitors and bruised literally from head to toe.

"Hey, don't cry." His voice is a little scratchy, but he tugs her closer until she's standing right beside his bed. Her first instinct is to sit down with him, but there's hardly any room, and she doesn't want to hurt him.

"Does it hurt?" She tries to stop crying, just because she knows he doesn't want to see her tears. He hates seeing her cry, and she shouldn't make him worry right now.

"Morphine's kind of awesome." He gives her this stupid smile that she honestly can't even be mad at. Still, she doesn't think all the pain medication in the world could mask the injuries he appears to have.

"It looks terrible."

"Thanks." He gives her a little smirk, and she lets herself smile a little even though she doesn't really feel it. He just looks at her for a couple of seconds, and then he says, "I'm fine. I promise."

"They won't let Bekah back because she's not eighteen." She changes the subject because she doesn't think she can listen to him tell her how fine he is when he's lying in the intensive care unit looking like _that._

"I'll probably be in a normal room tomorrow." She wonders if he's already heard the same spill from the doctor that she has.

She thinks about telling him how scared his sister is and how she had a breakdown in the waiting room with flashbacks to five years ago when her mom died. But this isn't the time for that. He doesn't need anything else to worry about, and she definitely doesn't want him lying here all night comparing his own accident to his mother's.

He's still got her hand, and he pulls her a little bit closer until she can tell he wants her to lean down and kiss him. She's scared of hurting him, but she takes a chance and just barely brushes her lips against his. Just enough to feel him but not enough to hurt him.

He's still got that stupid smirk on his face, and she wonders how good morphine actually is.

She has a feeling that as soon as that drip stops, he's not going to be in nearly as good of a mood.

…


End file.
